


investigate anonymous

by gaykids



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Actor Eddie, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Pining, References to Depression, Richie-centric, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, but its pretty fuckin obvious, like i dont say he has depression, musician richie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaykids/pseuds/gaykids
Summary: He’s about to duck out when Eddie asks, “Meeting with someone?”“Hah.” Richie snorts. There isn’t anybody, never really has been. No one has caught Richie’s eye since Eddie, and it’s pathetic but he hasn’t really tried to date anybody else. He can’t.When musician Richie Tozier gets tired of keeping all his feelings bottled up, he createsanonymous3456789.tumblr.comto vent. The only issue is... what if someone finds it?





	investigate anonymous

**Author's Note:**

> ok just some things; "fellas, is it gay to love a bro" was just my working title and i wanted everyone to know that
> 
> also, eddie is an actor and richie is a musician who is pining after eddie but youll pick up on that in like 2 seconds just wanted to say that bc i didnt know how to fit it into the summary without it sounding weird
> 
> it's currently the night before my second week of my last year of high school and this is really what i spent my whole weekend doing
> 
> uuhhh also theres prob a billion mistakes bc i only read through it once fully soo,,
> 
> i came up w this concept for a different ship in 2016 so, bonus points if u can figure out what ship this was originally for
> 
> PS THIS FIC IS VERY RICHIE CENTRIC I LOVE MY BOY
> 
> anyway, here's the longest thing ive ever written

It’s cold in a lonely sort of way. The kind that makes everything feel more quiet than it really is and finally shows you just how tired you are. The slight whir of the air conditioner is muted, the quiet hum of the fridge is nonexistent. Richie is stuck, sitting on his own living room floor, not even on the lounge, instead against it, just thinking.

 

At times like these everything feels like too much. All these thoughts and feelings are stuck in his own mind, sometimes being released into lyrics, most of the time being bottled up until his mind is a bubbling cauldron just about to overflow. It’s scary. He wishes he didn’t have this much time to think. 

 

It’s like recently everything has changed. After the release of his second album he feels like a completely different person. He’s been forcing himself to speak to girls, listening to their quiet giggles and chirpy voices and feeling like he’s constantly about to cry because he’s left with too much room to think. Then he escapes home, every single damn time, before anything ever happens but after the tabloids get their pics, back to his apartment, into the silence where there is nothing but room to think.

 

Right now, he’s boiling. His mind is in one of those bubbling cauldron moments, and he doesn’t want to overflow like every other time. Richie is only half sober, so his thoughts are slurred together all to form one grand idea. He needs to get them, everything he thinks, out there. It’s genius. He needs to be free. 

 

Even his own drunken mind knows his bounds.  _ Not as me _ , he thinks,  _ no one can know it’s me.  _ His management team would have his head, his dear thought filled head. 

 

There are some parts of him that he has to keep secret, hidden from his fans, parts of himself that parts of his management had suggested not to be so open about.

 

When he was eighteen and fresh into the music scene, he agreed. All he wanted was a chance to share his music widely, and he jumped at the chance of being signed to a record label. No matter the mental cost.

 

It has come back to bite him, now, in the height of his music career. But he’s scared. He’s terrified. Because;  _ what if they’re right _ ? What if he really  _ does _ need to hide these parts of himself.

  
  


-

  
  


The day starts with a groan. Richie’s windows are open and it feels like a personal fluorescent ambush against his retinas, like the light is reflecting off everything right through the browns of his eyes and into his thrumming mind. A hangover, no doubt.

 

He can’t even close his eyes because when he does all he can see is orange and all he can feel is his headache. Eventually, though, Richie crawls out of bed and practically stumbles into his kitchen. It’s dusty. There are fingerprints left wherever he touches, and they’re quite starkly whiter than where he doesn’t touch. He should clean everything, or at least invest in a maid. Instead, he reaches into his pantry and picks out two pills from a bottle. He swallows them dry, because he’s used to painkillers by now, and moves back into his bedroom.

 

The windows are still open but Richie quite likes the breeze so he simply closes the curtains instead and sits on his bed, drawing his laptop onto his stomach. He opens it, with every intention of turning it on, before he sees a bright yellow sticky note on his keyboard.

 

_ anonymous3456789.tumblr.com  _

_ pass; WhatsUpGuysItsRichie99 _

 

The writing is so scribbly that it’s barely legible but it reminds him of his own when he was in elementary school, so he can read it well enough. Obviously, that’s what he writes like when he’s drunk. It’s not something he put much thought into before, but now he feels sorry for all the girls he has written autographs for after a few drinks. 

 

_ So, _ he deduces,  _ I made a Tumblr.  _

 

Richie laughs at himself for a moment, wondering what was going through his head. He doesn’t remember his own thought process from last night, but he does vaguely remember hopping on his laptop. He has made Tumblr accounts in the past, but none of them had taken off so he always deactivated them or abandoned them. Why drunk Richie would make one, he can’t figure out.

 

He goes on Tumblr anyway, and he’s not shocked to find himself already logged in, so he clicks his own blog. His profile picture is a default red circle with closed eyes, and he has no description or name. All it says is  _ Untitled _ .

 

There’s one post though, and it’s quite lengthy. He almost skims it, before he realises he’s quite honestly intrigued about what his drunken mind is, and that reading this might take his mind off the fact his flat is really quiet, again. 

 

_ So I’m a little bit stuck right now. A little bit stuck and a little bit claustrophobic. I shouldn’t be because physically I’m alone and honestly my apartment is pretty big but yeah. It’s more of a mental thing. I’m a little bit stuck in my mind and a little bit smothered by my own thoughts and feeling like I’m maybe a little bit drowned in myself.  _

 

_ I need an outlet, a place to go to when things get bad. Sure, people could argue I’m constantly surrounded by friends and I could talk to anybody but there’s this weird part of me that’s telling me I can’t. It’s always been there. Sometimes I try, but I’m either too drunk or they’re too drunk and everything's a mess. Like, right now, I’m drunk, and that is probably the only reason I think this is a good idea. But I need to vent.  _

 

_ The world is full of liars, and I’m one of them. I don’t think I’ve ever been fully truthful with anybody, I just leave bits and pieces of scattered truths everywhere. I’m scared of people knowing me because I know I could never handle their negative opinions. If everyone I ever met held a conference and connected the dots they’d finally be able to see the real me, maybe. There are rumours that go around about me. I’m dating one girl or I’m dating another or I’m gay or I’m so undoubtedly straight that it’s even offensive to theorise otherwise. It’s hard to keep up, and to separate what’s true from what’s not. But I’m going to clear some things up, here, right now, because I need to, and then I’ll hope no one who knows me will find this and figure out who I am. So here are my truth bombs. _

 

_ I have always been confused about my sexuality. I am hopelessly in love with the man I used to call my best friend. _

 

_ That is the unfiltered truth. The unchanged, raw, honest, unfiltered truth from me. Some people know the first part, but I’ve never told anyone the second. It’s good to let it out here on this small blog, even if I might delete this post when I’m sober. _

 

_ So, whatever. I guess. Until next time.  _

 

Richie is so shocked by himself he has to read through it twice more. It’s crazy, how fluent his words come even when drunk, a complete stream of consciousness. He knows that this is the only good drunken idea he’s ever had, because, of course! Who would think that out of everyone in the world, it would be him? No one will look at this and think that  _ it must be the marginally successful singer Richie Tozier! _ And even if they do, what would be the proof? There is none. Just rumours like everything else.

 

He notices the post is tagged;  _ #journal, #anonymous _

 

Richie leaves them, because there’s no point of him uploading these if no one sees them.

  
  


-

  
  


Life could be considered funny, if funny was synonymous for evil, twisted, out for Richie’s blood. However, it isn’t, and life is far from funny. 

 

That night, Beverly and Ben are hosting their engagement party. Richie has been waiting for this day for what seems like forever. When he had met Ben, he knew instantly he would be a match for Beverly. Maybe it was his joyful personality, or his genuine interest in literally everything on planet Earth, but Richie  _ knew _ .

 

He introduced them a week later, and two years on from then, here they are.

 

And, well, Richie is stoked. Bev is probably the closest thing he has to family, and now he has Ben, too. Just, he can’t shake the awful feeling in his gut. When he wakes up in the morning, he instantly knows he’s going to have a shit day. He burns his coffee, he over-butters his toast, then he turns on the TV and hears his own stupid song playing lightly at the back of a commercial and, yeah, it’s a shitty day.

 

Why? Richie knows, he just knows, Eddie Kaspbrak is going to be there tonight.

 

For a long time he really considers staying home, but the sun sets and it’s about the time he should be leaving and, fuck, there’s no way he could do that to Bev and Ben, so he throws on whatever is in his closet and meets his driver outside.

 

He can’t drink, not today. He gets reckless when drunk, and he doesn’t want to do anything brash. Richie is almost sure Eddie doesn’t know about his infatuation (god, it’s so, so much more than that) but he’s also almost sure of it that Eddie must have some, at least, small incline, because as people started to pick up on their subtle glances and lingering touches, there began to be less of them, until they were just two strangers that happened to know a lot about one another. 

 

When they had first met, the media hadn’t shut up about them.  _ Musician Richie Tozier and Actor Eddie Kaspbrak: New Friendship?  _ He can remember just about every stupid fucking headline. Their fans had definitely picked up on Richie’s infatuation, if the Reddie shippers meant anything. Thousands of fans were dedicated to them as an item, so convinced they were dating and in love. 

 

Maybe it’s his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ persona, and Eddie’s sweetness, but sometimes people thought it was  _ Eddie  _ with the unrequited crush on Richie, and that Richie had just led Eddie on.

 

And maybe that’s the most painful part of it all. If only they would see Richie when he thought no one was looking. Then they’d know he isn’t all they think he is.

 

There aren’t words capable of describing the beginning of their friendship. It could, at best, be likened to standing in the middle of a tornado. Not anymore. But it was his own fault. Sometimes Richie feels like another face in the masses, so eager to give his heart away to Eddie Kaspbrak.

 

Once, management told Richie that he should tone it down, and they told him to stop wearing such bright colours, and to be a little less energetic. It was for image purposes, they said, they wanted him to be more mature. He knows now and he knew back then what that meant; stop being so stereotypical.

 

Richie likes to pretend he doesn’t care, but he does, because he can’t deny the hollow feeling he gets when he remembers being sat on a chair, watching a slideshow of his most recent interview, with a middle aged man pointing out what was wrong with his image. Too many hand gestures, too much hair touching, too many crude jokes, too much of everything that made him Richie. 

 

He also remembers watching American Horror Story the same year, and being scared for the first time during season 2 while watching one of the characters go through conversion therapy.

 

The door is unlocked, and he can hear the music already drumming within Ben and Bev’s LA home, so he slips in and immediately heads to the kitchen. He wants something to do with his hands while he navigates the party, and he knows exactly where he can find a can of soft drink.

 

Opening the cold, metal fridge door with his hands, he grabs a can of Diet Coke and opens it. One sip later, he’s about to venture off into the party, but he hears a voice.

 

“Just going to get a beer!” 

 

A sad fact about Richie is that he can distinguish Eddie’s voice apart from every other one in a crowd. It actually comes in useful when he’s trying to avoid him, like right now, but Richie knows he’s coming up the hallway so there’s nothing he can do but stand there and try to look casual even though he’s completely on edge. He grabs his phone at the last second from his pocket and taps in his passcode, it launches straight into Twitter.

 

Eddie walks in, with short legs and his short arms and his short torso and, God, he isn’t even  _ that  _ short. He just looks like he should be. 

 

“Oh.” He freezes in the doorway, his brown eyes trained on the Diet Coke in Richie’s hand, and then Eddie looks up at him. “No beer?”

 

“No, there’s beer.” Richie smiles politely before looking back at his phone. There’s nothing interesting on his timeline, but he keeps scrolling. The air is tense, but if he just pretends it isn’t maybe Eddie will leave quicker.

 

“You aren’t drinking?” Eddie asks conversationally, opening the fridge and searching for a beer he would like.

 

“Nah. Not today.” Richie closes his phone and puts it back in his pocket. He feels like he’s choking and he needs to get out of there, because he’s a bit of a crybaby, honestly, he always has been too emotional. All their interactions have been like this for longer than they ever weren’t; cut short, stunted, lacking any sort of substance whatsoever. But still, it surprises Richie every time, like he expects it to be any different. “Actually, I just remembered something.”

 

He’s about to duck out when Eddie asks, “Meeting with someone?”

 

“Hah.” Richie snorts. There isn’t anybody, never really has been. No one has caught Richie’s eye since Eddie, and it’s pathetic but he hasn’t really _tried_ to date anybody else. He can’t.

 

First, he’d have to come out. Then, he’d have to get over Eddie, and he doesn’t think he can do that without proper closure, which will never occur, because Richie will never confront Eddie about his feelings, he knows that much. 

 

It feels like a lie, those few guys he kissed in dark clubs, even less that he actually let take him to their places. He’s only had sex a handful of times, and each time it has never matched up to his expectations so what is the point?

 

“What?” Eddie asks, finally closing the fridge with a beer in his hand. It’s sweating, and a bead of condensation drips down onto Eddie’s hand, against his thin fingers. Richie almost can’t look away.

 

His face looks concerned, almost. Richie wonders what kind of impression he gave just by laughing at Eddie’s question. Just, he can’t help but be annoyed. It’s like everyone believes his public persona without question. Richie loves women. Richie fucks a different girl every night. Richie showers in vaginal discharge. 

 

He really thought Eddie would know better. He’s an actor himself, a celebrity. He knows how the gossip rags can drag your name through the dirt without remorse. Why does he believe Richie is what they say he is? They used to be so close.

 

“Nothing.” And he leaves.

  
  


-

  
  


_ “I really do feel like I could tell you, like, anything.” Richie hiccups, “Which is weird because I only met you a month ago.” _

 

_ “A month?” Eddie asks, sipping on his beer, “Feels like… like… a quadruple billion million trillion days.” _

 

_ “Right!” Richie grins, “That’s how long I made your mom orgasm for last night.” _

 

_ Eddie gasps and pushes Richie, “Gross!” _

 

_ Richie rolls off the bed onto the carpet, laughing loudly as he does. _

  
  


_ - _

  
  


Bev and Ben are easy enough to find. They’re talking to Ben’s parents, and even from across the room Richie can see Bev politely laughing, looking for an escape. When their eyes meet, she grins, says something to her future parent-in-laws and makes her way over.

 

“You,” she says, pulling Richie into a hug, “made this happen.”

 

He did. They probably never would have met if it weren’t for Richie. He wonders when it’s his turn, when does he get to be happy? His mind wanders to Eddie in the kitchen, standing by the fridge with a beer in his hand. He hasn’t felt happy in quite a while.

 

“One might say I fathered this relationship.” Richie says as they pull apart, his arms rest on the crooks of her elbows. He’s glad that Bev is happy.

 

“I guess?” She replies, eyebrows raised. She looks beautiful tonight, her ginger hair cut into a mid-neck length bob. Her blue eyes look like they’re sparkling, too, but that might just be the champagne.

 

“Then you guys better start calling me daddy.” He grins.

 

“You’re disgusting!”

 

It’s weird how Richie is so accustomed to pretending he’s fine that he’s practically mastered it. A few artfully placed smiles and one crude Richie-esque joke and no one wonders at all what is happening in his head. He’s been through this, though. It’s like everyone assumes he is some one-dimensional joke machine and no one ever takes him seriously. It’s fine, though, because in the end it comes to his advantage.

 

He smiles, “Yeah, sure, okay.”

 

The room feels suffocating, and he leaves before they even bring out the cake.

  
  


-

  
  


_ It’s always super weird when I see people saying that I’m gay. How do you know? I barely even know. _

 

_ At this point I’m pretty sure everyone just thinks I’m some sort of dirty womanizer who has had several million girlfriends and probably has a couple thousand Jon Snows running around. I deny both of those facts, by the way. I haven’t had my dick in a woman since high school.  _

 

_ Shit, I guess that is pretty gay. Fellas, is it gay to love a bro?  _

 

_ Honestly, I probably am gay, but admitting that to myself would be a bit too hard, so I’ll just not do that. I guess you could say I’m pretty good at avoiding my problems. I should write a book about it, it could be a bestseller.  _

 

_ How To Avoid Your Problems Until You Have So Many Problems You Have To Make A Tumblr Account So You Can Vent About All The Problems You’re Avoiding: For Dummies. _

 

_ Watch out Barnes and Noble, I’m coming. _

 

_ I also don’t know if my “boss”, using the term loosely because they aren’t technically my boss but they own my ass, is being purposely homophobic or not. Maybe this is happening to me because I’m scared of coming out to them? I’m pretty sure they’re at least somewhat aware of my sexuality, because why else would they have tried teaching me how to look less gay, and act less gay, and basically telling me to date girls to keep up my image? I don’t know. _

 

_ Whatever. I’m gone. _

  
  


-

  
  


Richie knows keeping this blog is a little bit risky, but the more he thinks about it the more sense it makes. Nobody can prove it’s him, really, because for all everybody else knows, it could be anyone. A middle-aged man in France that works for a prestigious company, or even a nineteen year old that just graduated school and is working for McDonald’s. Why would anybody even just assume that’s him, anyway? He only got two notes on his last post and they were both just likes from poetry blogs.

 

It’s nice just venting everything out, and as long as he doesn’t get too specific, he isn’t in any danger. Of course, Richie is also aware that this is  _ technically _ going against his management, which is  _ technically _ violating his contract, so this being found out could also  _ technically _ land him in a very large lawsuit. 

 

His phone buzzes, though, so he doesn’t have much time to think about the trouble this could cause him.

 

**Ben:** _ Hey man!! where’d you get off to last night :) _

 

Richie sighs.

 

**Richie:** _ left a bit early sozzo B) tried 2 find u or bev but i couldnt _

 

**Ben:** _ Oh ok that's fine.. _

 

**Ben:** _ Did you happen to tell Eddie you were meeting someone?? _

 

It’s obvious this was his actual reason for conversation. Richie wants to throw his phone across the room because sure, he didn’t say no when Eddie asked him if he was meeting anyone but he didn’t say yes either. Richie bets that Ben told Bev and Stan and probably everyone they’ve ever met, too, and that they’re all simply  _ buzzing with joy! _

 

**Richie:** _ the true topic ! no, i didn’t meet with anybody???  _

 

**Ben:** _?! _

 

**Richie:** _ i think eddie took me the wrong way sjdjjs he asked if i was meeting any1 and i laughed because i haven’t seen anyone for a while  _

 

**Ben:** _ :((( _

 

**Richie:** _ besides your mom _

 

Thankful for the end of the conversation, Richie pulls up Twitter and decides to go through his mentions. It’s a terrible idea because half of them are calling him a noodle, which he doesn’t get, and the other half is just asking for a follow. Also a few sprinkles of ‘ _ why is he even famous he’s not that good _ ’ which is always a confidence booster.

 

 **niamh @reddiecontent:** _i feel like @Richie & @EddieKaspbrak are rly close to coming out_

 

“Ah, far from it.” He actually mutters to himself. He’s going crazy, talking to himself like a madman. All the replies are telling her to not tag Richie and Eddie and he can’t help but agree.

  
  


-

  
  


Social media is quite honestly addicting. Richie, himself, is practically an expert at the late-night Twitter shitpost, however, the fun definitely dissipates once the replies flood in. There’s the usual  _ i love you _ s and  _ please notice me _ s, and even a couple witty responses that he snickers at, but then there’s the Reddie tweets.

 

Ah, the Reddie tweets.

 

Nothing makes Richie wish for death harder. With every reference to Eddie, Richie feels like diving headfirst into cement, and with every  _ reddie is real!!!  _ Richie further loses his will to live. 

 

Before, Richie would wallow in bed, wrapped in a duvet burrito so tight it threatened to cut off his oxygen. Now, Richie has Tumblr as a source to vent. It’s like writing in a journal, but riskier.

 

He gets to work on his latest post, impressed at the fact he has amassed a total of fifty followers in the last two weeks since he created the blog.

 

_ I really do honestly, truthfully, actually, wholeheartedly, freely believe no one sees me as a human being. _

 

_ Yeah, I get it, that sounds weird, but hear me out. _

 

_ People say they like me for me, but what they mean is that they like my outward personality. Which, thank you, but a dog has personality too. Personality doesn’t make me human. What people fail to understand is that, as a human being, my life isn’t perfectly planned out. This probably doesn’t make sense. _

 

_ Like, okay, it’s fine if your friend or your sibling is confused about their sexuality, but no one ever considers the fact that I might be struggling with my own. It’s like everyone just assumes I have my life together. _

 

_ This would make a lot more sense if you knew who I was. Let’s just say there’s a lot of people looking my way and I’ve never seen a single person say I might be confused. But I’m just being dramatic. Tweet me all you want about how I’m gay/bi/straight. It’s cool that at least one of us is sure of it. _

 

He posts it before he can even think otherwise.

  
  


-

  
  


_ Beverly is on Richie’s arm for the Golden Globes after party. They’re living in an alternate universe where they belong in this world, a world where Jennifer Aniston is standing across the room looking like a normal person, and a world where Chris Martin complimented Richie on his latest single just as they walked in. _

 

_ “Do you think the big celebrities know even half of these people?” Beverly asks. _

 

_ “Bev, I don’t even know half of these people.” Richie replies, grabbing two flutes of champagne from a waitress walking by. Bev happily takes one. _

 

_ “I probably do.” Bev says. _

 

_ “Name ten people in this room.” Richie laughs, and Bev looks at him with triumph on her features. _

 

_ “Emma Stone, Jennifer Lawrence… Matt LeBlanc…” Bev frowns, concentrating, “Eddie Kaspbrak.” _

 

_ “What? Where?” Richie asks. _

 

_ “Over there.” Bev points to the buffet where Eddie Kaspbrak is staring resolutely at a plate of finger foods. _

 

_ Richie passes his flute of champagne off into Beverly’s hands, “Hold this. I’m going to introduce myself.” _

  
  


-

  
  


The next time he sees Eddie it is completely accidental.

 

Richie is sitting in a pub, alone (not even waiting for anybody, that’s how sad he is), when he looks up and his eye is caught on a white shirt. He knows that shirt, because during one night out, Bev tripped and spilt juice all down the back of it. The orange stain is still slightly there, and still slightly phallic, an observation Richie had made when the accident occurred. 

 

His mind can only conjure up one sentence over and over;  _ I need to get out.  _

 

What are the odds, though, he wants to cry. Two celebrities and ex-best friends happen to end up at the same bar? It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,  _ two celebrities walk into the same bar. One of them is in love with the other. _

 

He’s a little bit stuck, though, sitting at a booth all on his own, with a cup half full of beer in front of him. His body is just frozen, staring Eddie in the back. He realises Eddie is with Ben, too, of all people, and he’s honestly offended he wasn’t invited before he remembers he would’ve just declined anyway, had he known Eddie would be here. 

 

The booth he’s in is in the corner, it almost blends into the wall it’s so dark. He only sat here because he knew nobody else would, and he just wanted to be alone with some beer that doesn’t feel like it’s store bought. Nobody can recognise him when he’s in the corner, the darkness honestly makes it like nobody's sitting there.

 

Ben loves to prove him wrong, though, because his vision cuts through the shadows and hits Richie when he’s not looking. Blissfully unaware and replying to some texts, Richie enjoys his time in the corner. He texts his mom an update on how he’s been doing even if she hasn’t replied to the last one and is about to call Bev when Ben finally finds his way to Richie’s booth, with Eddie in tow.

 

Richie can see their legs, and he debates ignoring them for a second before realising there’s no way he could play it off. Their legs are literally right there. He’d have to be an idiot, so he looks up instead.

 

“Oh,” Richie says, all surprise and smiles. Lies, of course. “hey, guys!”

 

“You waiting for anybody?” Ben asks.

 

“Yeah, your mom.” He laughs. “But actually, no. I was just enjoying some Tuesday night drinking, alone.” His voice trails off into a pathetic sigh, both Eddie and Ben snort. “Why are you guys here?”

 

“Same as you. Minus the alone part. Which, by the way, you have friends. Why are you alone?” Ben slides into the booth next to Richie, and Eddie slides in next to Ben. He still hasn’t said a word.

 

“Dunno. I just felt like being alone, I suppose.” Richie smiles, and he feels like he’s being a bit too honest, but before he can add anything else, Ben replies. 

 

“That’s sad, Rich.” he says, and it falls silent. Richie takes one more sip of his beer and moves back to his phone, opting to text Bev instead of calling. He knows he’s sad, and sure, Ben probably meant it as a joke, but it doesn’t make it any less true. “Who’re you texting?”

 

Richie is about to reply when Eddie butts in, “A girl?” He says it like it’s nothing and takes a sip of his beer directly afterwards.

 

Honestly, that’s the worst part. Not that Eddie actually believes in Richie’s womanizer personality but that he questions him so casually, as if this is just a part of who he is. It isn’t. Richie isn’t like that, even vaguely. His biggest mistake may be that he never told them he’s gay. He’s hinted in the past, but that was the past, he’s more caged now, less free. He honestly doesn’t really  _ want  _ to, which sort of goes against what he said in his last blog post, but at this point, how would he even do it? He doesn’t think he could without going into shock, or vomiting everywhere, or having a panic attack, maybe all three.

 

Of course Richie had thought about it hundreds of thousands of times, about the fact well, he’s gay and almost nobody knows. His best friends, the people who he is expected to trust more than anybody, are still in the dark. It’s not even that he wants it to be like this, no, quite the opposite, but the fact is it has gone on for too long, and they’ve never had to be brought into it. Back in 2010, 2011, 2012, fuck, even 2013, Richie was just too nervous to ever tell them anything. Now he regrets his old decisions, wishes he could spit them out and turn back time.

 

“Well, technically.” He humours them, even if it’s his lifelong friend and fiancé of Ben, sitting across from him, raising his eyebrows at Eddie.  _ Is that really what you think of me  _ dances on the tip of his tongue. “I think I need to go.”

 

Ben asks why, but Richie is up before they can keep him back, and then he’s out the door.

 

The next day, a story goes up from  _ TMZ _ . Pap photos of Eddie and Ben leaving the club appear under a headline:  **_Eddie Kaspbrak and friend Ben Hanscom enjoy a lad’s night_ ** . Richie wouldn’t hate it if it weren’t for the quote ‘ _ Eddie Kaspbrak, Hollywood’s sweetheart’,  _ so he pretends he never saw it.

  
  


-

  
  


Richie wants to write about what happened, about how even his friends believe he’s some sleaze, that he’s so utterly caught up in these lies that there’s no room for movement, and he can’t see a way out of this, he hasn’t been able to for a long time, and the words don’t come to him. He can’t even summarise his thoughts, so instead he searches through Tumblr and finds a quote to reblog.

 

_ “Things come apart so easily when they are held together by lies.” _

__ ―  **Dorothy Allison, Bastard Out of Carolina**

 

It really has nothing to do with tonight, but it’s a bigger picture. One day his career and fame will completely fall apart, and Richie thinks the only part of this he’ll miss is performing on stage.

  
  


-

  
  


**GRETA BOWIE WALKS AROUND LONDON WITH A BUN IN THE OVEN?**

 

_ Greta Bowie, America-born model and newly announced Cover Girl, was spotted strolling around London with a suspiciously round stomach.  _

 

_ Now, it may be too soon to tell, but the fact she hasn’t been spotted anywhere for the last month and the last time she was photographed by paparazzi was on a yacht with Richie Tozier is more than a bit suspicious.  _

 

_ Do you think the fling would make good parents? _

 

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_ GRETA BOWIE ANNOUNCED AS NEW COVER GIRL _

_ RICHIE TOZIER’S ALBUM POSTPONED IN FAVOR OF HAVING SHORT BREAK _

_ 10 REASONS TO SHIP GRICHIE _

  
  


_ - _

  
  


Richie’s phone is ringing, when he looks it sees the contact name  _ MANAGEMENT!!  _ and he wants to shoot himself. He lets it ring, deciding he’ll call back or wait for them to call again, because he can’t deal with this first thing in the morning. 

 

A second later, he can’t fall back asleep so he grabs his phone and heads to the kitchen instead and makes himself two pieces of toast. While they’re burning, he calls hid management back, they pick up on the first ring.

 

“Ray Management Agency, how can I help you?” 

 

“Hello, it’s Richie Tozier, you called me five minutes ago.” He says.

 

“Oh, yes, one second.” He gets put on hold, the music resembling something like elevator music. He puts his phone on speaker and puts it on the counter, swaying his hips to the generic rhythm. He butters his toast along with it.

 

“Hello, Richie!” It’s Katie Schnetzer, the ringleader to most of his PR stunts. 

 

“Oh, Miss Schnetzer, hello.” He says politely, “Any particular reason for your call?”

 

“Yes, infact, it’s about Greta Bowie.” She replies and Richie wants to hang up.

 

There’s nothing wrong with her, really, she’s perfectly fine, but they keep forcing these appearances with her. Richie knows exactly what they’re up to. She’s a famous model, Richie is a famous singer, she’s a girl, he’s a boy. It definitely give the impression that they’re dating.

 

“Mhm?” He mumbles absently. He wants her to just tell him he doesn’t have to see her anymore.

 

“The fans love her.” She states, “So we’d love for you to fly back out to her, preferably within the next few days or so. She’s currently staying in London, but flights are accommodated for whenever dates, you can stay at her house again, or even a hotel if you prefer.”

 

“What?” Richie talks back over to his phone, takes it off speaker and pulls it up to his ear again as if this is conversation is too private for even the air to hear it. “With all due respect, this is my break. I’m not really, um, liking this idea. At all.”

 

“We’re constantly working, Richie. Are you being serious with me right now?” She says as if she is the one that has just been told to fly to England to act lovey with a girl he barely knows. “We need to clean up your image.”

 

“By making me look like some player?” Richie speaks exasperatedly.

 

“No. Richie. I think I’m going to schedule a meeting.” Katie mumbles, “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. We’ll talk about this more in depth then. I’ll contact you.” She hangs up.

 

God, Richie wants to cry. One scandal after another. He looks like a complete Lothario. He might as well change his name while he’s at it. Lothario Tozier, because why not? Why does management think this is even remotely okay? They talk to him like it’s just some casual thing. The fact is, under all these flashing lights, Richie can see himself, and he can see Greta, and he can see the articles being written about them. There is nothing  _ casual  _ about their relationship, magazines that Richie has learnt partner with his management have begun describing her as his girlfriend.

 

As much as they act like it’s just to keep up appearances, to hang with celebrities and keep his name relevant, it is  _ so  _ much more than that. 

 

He brings his plate of toast to his room and sits on the bed, pulling his laptop off the floor beside it. When he types  _ t  _ into the Safari search bar, it autofills it to  _ tumblr.com.  _ His notifications are the first place he checks, and he’s shocked to find five thousand notes on his last journal entry and three thousand on another one, and about a hundred reblogs of the quote. They’re scattered account themes, but mostly Carla Bordeaux and Bordeaux fan accounts. When he clicks on one of the reblogs he finds a series of comments attached to the end of his post by other people.

 

**_karlabordo:_ ** _ Am I the only one that finds this a bit weird? Why is it such a big deal for him to come out if he just works for some company??? Doesn’t it seem a little bit dramatic??? _

 

**_bordeauxeauxeaux:_ ** _ u cant decide if he’s being dramatic or not u dont know who he is _

 

**_shinycarlas:_ ** _ normally id agree with you ^ but there’s something a bit off with it?? i think the theories are somewhat true _

 

Why are all these Carla Bordeaux accounts talking about him? To his understanding, Carla Bordeaux is a reality TV star and a close  _ friend _ of Eddie’s, maybe more. He doesn’t really know their situation, but the fact they have a connection is giving him anxiety.

 

Theories are something that Richie is well-acquainted with, especially about himself, but not as anonymous3456789. He searches his own name in the tags and finds a couple hundred posts about him. The most reblogged has three thousand notes. It begins with a screenshot of both of his original posts and the quote he reblogged and follows with a long text paragraph.

 

**_REASONS I THINK ANONYMOUS3456789 IS CARLA BORDEAUX MASTERPOST_ **

 

_ We’ve all heard quite a bit about anonymous3456789 in the past twenty four hours, but for those who haven’t, basically it’s an account that has been posting anonymous diary entries online talking about the struggle of being gay and closeted and suppressed by some higher power(???) This is going to basically be a masterpost of all the reasons I believe anon is Carla. _

 

  1. **_THERE HAVE BEEN LESBIAN RUMOURS LATELY_**



 

_ So we have all heard the lesbian rumours about Carla lately that have apparently come from an inside source and while we still don’t know how legitimate that source is we do know Carla has always been really secretive about her love life and if she is a closeted lesbian then that would make sense. Anon’s posts really show just  _ why  _ that is. She’s being forced into the closet. _

 

  1. **_““boss”, using the term loosely because they aren’t technically my boss but they own my ass”_**



 

_ This is CLEARLY about her mom!!! ‘Using the term loosely because they aren’t technically my boss but they own my ass’ she isn’t technically her boss because she’s her mom but she owns her ass and if she had said ‘my mom is homophobic’ it wouldve been too obvious. keep in mind this account is meant to be ANONYMOUS! Her mom doesnt seem that homophobic but we really don’t know what is going on behind the scenes!! _

 

  1. **_THEY REBLOGGED FROM A CARLA BORDEAUX FAN ACCOUNT_**



 

_ This is one of the most important proofs because why else would they reblog that quote from THAT account??  _

 

Richie has to stop reading, because he’s laughing a little bit too much. Sure, Carla may possibly be a lesbian, but this is truly reaching. He just quickly skips to the end, because there are eleven more reasons that he is Carla Bordeaux he just doesn’t really care about.

 

_ I have my doubts about a few things, like how anon calls themself a womanizer but Carla hasn’t had many public relationships. although, dating Eddie Kaspbrak at the moment is a little bit weird and may fit under her definition. if this isnt Carla then idk who it is but definitely not just no one _

 

He scrolls a little bit further down to a new post, ignoring the part about Eddie.

 

_ SINCE ANON DOESNT HAVE THEIR ASK BOX ON CAN U ALL PLEASE REBLOG AS MUCH AND CAPTION CARLA RELATED SO THEY CANT IGNORE US ANYMORE _

 

Honestly, Richie doesn’t even know how to turn on his ask box, but he knows it’s a way to send messages to people. There is a private message option, and he knows he probably has many, but he neglects checking them. He contemplates sending a message to the person who wrote the ‘ _ reasons I think anonymous3456789 is Carla Bordeaux’ _ post and asking them to take it down but that would only make it all more suspicious.

 

Really, he could end this all now by just deactivating the account, but what then? What can he do? Find another way to vent?  Instead, he finds himself writing a new post. 

 

_ It seems this blog has been getting quite a lot of activity in the past day. I’m not keen on starting rumours, so I want everybody to know that I am NOT Carla Bordeaux. Reblogging from a fan blog was an accident, and I did not realise. Your conspiracies are weirdly well thought-out, though, you almost had  _ me  _ thinking I was Carla Bordeaux. _

 

He thinks it’s vague enough to not give anything away, so he publishes it. It has a few hundred notes in the first ten minutes. There are arguments erupting in the reblogs. Some people are still sure that Anon is Carla, others are telling everybody to calm down and respect Anon. Richie can’t help but laugh a little bit. One reblog catches his eye though.

 

**_reddie-edchie reblogged this and added:_ ** _ who are you then??? _

 

The tags make him sweat;  _ #not saying that you’re eddie, #but you’re probably eddie _

 

A quick check of the blog tells him it isn’t very popular, most of its original posts only get one note or two, so he trusts that the Eddie theory won’t get out and decides to log out this time. If Eddie hears about this, he might realise it’s Richie.

 

It’s getting a bit risky. If anyone finds him out, well, he doesn’t even know what. He’ll just have to lie.

  
  


-

  
  


A car comes to pick Richie up for the meeting with his management. He’s pretty sure he knows how it will go. They’ll argue for a while, back and forth with little to no progress, and then Richie will end up doing whatever they want anyway. So basically, he knows by the end of the meeting they’ll be booking tickets to England. 

 

He occupies himself on the short drive by idly checking his phone. He doesn’t have the Tumblr app, and he hasn’t checked his account since a few days ago when he made his last post. He hasn’t really needed to, never feeling like he had to write about anything particularly, and he didn’t want to see all the drama going on.

 

They finally arrive to the building, Richie thanks his driver before getting out and rushing in the building. The receptionist tells him to head straight into the conference room and when he does he finds the room already half full, but most of them are filing out. 

 

“Richie! Much too punctual!” Katie says through a tight smile, “Could you wait outside a moment?”

 

“Yeah...” He says, shuffling out along with the other businessmen that are leaving. There are no seats in the hallway so he just leans against the wall and tries to see how many cracks he can spot in the roof before he gets called in. He gets to an impressive count of zero (despite spending at least five minutes looking) before he’s interrupted.

 

“Richie?” A voice asks, Richie knows who it is before he looks up. 

 

“Oh, hey Eddie.” He stares at him confusedly, his hair seems longer now, curlier, it might be Richie’s favourite hairstyle on Eddie, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Just got out of a meeting. What are you doing just, y’know, standing here?” Eddie grins and Richie is dizzy because if everything else has changed about Eddie in the time they’ve drifted, his straight, white smile has always stayed the same.

 

“About to get into one. Stunting as per usual.” Richie says. He really wishes he could smoke in here. Seeing Eddie has his ADHD flairing up, it always has, but these days he’s generally a more nervous person. “Honestly, my meeting was meant to start three minutes ago.”

 

“Wait. What?” Eddie asks.

 

“What?” Richie asks right back.

 

“Richie! In!” Katie beckons from the doorway. Richie only nods in Eddie’s direction before walking in. Most of the people from Eddie’s meeting appear to still be here and they stand to shake hands with Richie. He greets them all mostly out of politeness because in all honestly he doesn’t want to really touch any of these people. He takes a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs and waits for them to dive right in.

 

Katie stares around the room, “Has everybody been briefed on why we’re here?”

 

The room erupts into a cacophony of ‘ _ mhm’ _ s and ‘ _ yes’ _ es. Everybody is nodding.

 

“Obviously the pregnancy rumours are spreading.”

 

“Where did they even come from?” Richie asks, “Greta doesn’t even look remotely pregnant.”

 

“Sometimes someone will plant a seedling and it will grow. We need to battle them. A few big gossip sites have begun doubting that Richie is truly the father, this is exactly what we want.” Katie tells the whole group, “My idea is that sending Richie to stay with Miss Bowie again will further the doubts.”

 

_ How?  _ Richie thinks, but twists his wrists in circles under the table instead.

 

“Idea!” A woman with thick glasses and hair tied in a bun exclaims, she looks young aside from the shallow wrinkles all over face, “Send them on a vacation. It seems more realistic seeing as this is Richie’s break and of course he’ll be trying to enjoy his time the best they can. Maybe a yacht?”

 

“It might cost a lot to fund, though. Another yacht? Do we want to waste our money like that?” A man butts in.

 

“Is it really a waste?”

 

Richie frowns, “This all seems really unnecessary to me. Can’t I just spend my break on my own? Do we have to do this whole stunting thing again? The rumours aren’t going to go away if we keep spending time together.”

 

“Being in a stable relationship could really boost your image. It has really been going down south lately.” Katie says firmly.

 

The table is silent, but Richie smacks his mouth and leans further on the table, his leg is bouncing uncontrollably and visibly shaking the conference table. “Have you ever wondered why my image has been so bad lately?”

 

“That doesn’t matter.” Katie waves him off.

 

“Yes, it does. A lot.” Richie says.

 

“How so? What seems important to me is dispelling these rumours.” She says.

 

“Because you can’t fix my reputation if you don’t realise what is wrong with it. People think I’m some fucking asshole who clubs too much, looks high half the time  _ and  _ got a model pregnant even though we met  _ once _ .” Richie raises his voice right back at her.

 

“He’s right, Miss Ray. Obviously what we have to do is make him look like a better partner.” A man chimes in, “We could fly him out to Greta. They could make a few public appearances together shopping for furniture, instead of their regular club appearances. We can schedule the paparazzi to come by. Then in a few weeks start hinting that they may move in together.”

 

“That’s perfect!” Katie exclaims.

 

“Or,” the man continues, “send them shopping for baby supplies so he looks like a better father and all the deadbeat dad rumours disappear, also the rumours of her not actually being pregnant.”

 

“Even better.”

 

“No. It isn’t. You aren’t making sense. Do you want people to think I’m the father or not?” Richie butts in again, annoyed. 

 

“We want people to think  _ you  _ think you’re the father, all while questioning it themselves. We don’t want people thinking she isn’t pregnant.” Katie tells him.

 

“Yeah, because she isn’t. Can you hear yourself? The only thing you can do to get us out of this is by telling everybody the whole thing was a publicity stunt.” Richie knows they never will. It would absolutely ruin the company, and although Richie is their client they wouldn’t sacrifice their whole company just to rebuild his image. “If you had never done this in the first place it would’ve never come to this.”

 

“It was to help your image.”

 

“Are you actually serious with me right now? My image was fine.” Richie fumes.

 

“No, it wasn’t, Richie.” Katie shakes her head.

 

“Really? Care to explain what was wrong with my reputation before you set me up with Greta Bowie?” Richie says snappily. 

 

“How about the drug scandal?” Katie tells him, growing angrier by the second. Richie can tell she truly believes she’s right. 

 

A video surfaced a year or two ago where Richie can clearly be seen in the background smoking a joint. He didn’t care or think it was that bad of a thing at all, but the media had tore him apart on behalf of the parents of his young fans.

 

“Oh, of course, because one little weed scandal really calls for creating a whole fake baby?” He says, “Did you seriously not think for a second about the backlash on that?”

 

“We didn’t  _ make  _ the baby.”

 

“But you didn’t stop it! One statement could have stopped everything.” Richie bounces his knee quickly, his thumbs rolling under the table. “It’s like you’re trying to make me look bad.”

 

“Obviously we aren’t trying to make you look bad, you’re one of our most successful clients! All we want is for you to look good at all times. Sometimes we have to go to extremes. Your image is the most important thing to us right now. The company is suffering and we don’t want to put a blame on anybody, but honestly Richie, your reputation is sinking the whole company.”

 

“Oh my fucking god, are you done yet?” Richie snaps. “Can we stop pretending this isn’t about hiding the fact I’m  _ gay _ ?”

 

The conference room goes silent. There’s only one sharp intake of breath. Richie would very much like to pretend his own stomach hasn’t dropped, and that his heart hasn’t stopped, and that his world hasn’t been falling apart for a while.

 

In the moments that follow, no one speaks. Richie can literally feel the ground beneath his feet shaking, or maybe it’s just him, because he hasn’t said the words  _ I’m gay  _ since he was 14 and looking in the mirror. He almost wants to take it back, it’s not like they didn’t know already. They had assumed, obviously, but saying it aloud makes it real, more tangible, it makes him realise how fucked up his life really is.

 

This has all been a long time coming. 

 

“Well. You never  _ said  _ that.”

 

“But I acted like it, right? And that was enough, it seems.” Richie says.

 

“You have no evidence to back you up, Mr Tozier.” Katie exclaims, outraged. “If you think we would ever do that, you’re wrong!”

 

“No evidence? How about forcing me into club situations for paps to take pictures of me around girls for  _ years  _ for absolutely no reason other than to ‘better my image’ which there was nothing wrong with in the first place. Then, how about flying me out to meet with Greta Bowie  _ knowing  _ how it looked, and  _ knowing  _ what the magazines  _ you  _ have ties to would say? And how about allowing a rumour that shouldn’t have had anything to ever do with me spread? Why? Was it because you wanted me to seem wholesome, or was it because the gay rumours keep coming?” 

 

Richie stands up, he needs to go. Halfway out the door he turns back because being dramatic has always been a trait of his. “They aren’t going to go away if I keep  _ being  _ gay. People will always see past the stunts.”

 

“Richie, you can’t go.” Katie rushes, “We haven’t finished the meeting.”

 

“Watch me.” He raises his eyebrows and his hands, flipping them all his middle finger as he walks backwards down the hall. The door is still open, he can still see in and they can all see him. They’re watching, waiting for him to come back and laugh about how funny of a joke that was just like the old Richie would’ve, back in 2010. This is unprofessional of him, of course, but why does he have to be when he feels like the floor is crumbling with every step he takes and his heart is aching more and more each day.

 

“He’s never acted up like this before!” Katie whispers harshly once Richie is out of sight, but he can still hear. He squints at the white fluorescent beam lights.

 

This is a turning point in his life, even if he doesn’t quite realise, he just about doubled the amount of people that know he’s gay in thirty seconds. And sure, he may feel like laying in traffic in the seconds to come, and that the world is spinning too fast, but he  _ did  _ it, and he stuck up for himself. Maybe for the first of many times, he hopes.

  
  


-

  
  


_ There comes a time when you can’t just continue being everybody’s lapdog. I’ve spent the past few years of my life being bossed around by so many different people. I’ve been told who to be friends with, who to not be friends with, who to date and how to act. I’m completely sick of it. _

 

_ Want some more truth? I’m not confused about my sexuality. I’m gay. That was just a lie I told myself. I’ve never been in a serious relationship with a man. I’m so deeply closeted I have never even had the chance to! And all the LGBT individuals I have befriended, I’ve been advised to stay away from them, been fooled into thinking they’re bad for my image. Just so I seem a little more straight. At what point did my life become this fucked? _

 

_ The truest form of myself is from when this all began. Over time I think I’ve just deteriorated into this empty shell of what I used to be. I don’t want to seem dramatic, but maybe I am? I don’t know how to get myself out of this situation. _

 

_ Anyway, that was a bit too serious. Here’s a funny little anecdote; I basically just told everyone I work with to go fuck themselves. _

  
  


_ - _

  
  


**Stan:** Hey Richie, I heard you caused quite the event at Ray Management.

 

**Richie:** where are you?? havent seen u in ages? 

 

**Stan:** Sorry. I just have my head down. Putting all of my time into producing.

 

**Richie:** head down??? ass up??

 

**Stan:** Definitely not. So, what went down at RM?

 

**Richie:** they just want me to do some stuff i dont agree with

 

**Stan:** More publicity?

 

**Richie:** yeah they want me to go baby shopping with greta bowie?? like idk why theyd want to make it look like the pregnancy rumours are real when all that happened was like one pic of her without a completely flat stomach?? i literally stormed out of the room

 

**Stan:** You really do have guts. I could never.

 

**Richie:** ;)

  
  


-

  
  


Richie finally decides to open his ask box. If anything, he can just go through some and dispel the Carla rumours (which are still going strong), or maybe people will send him advice. Really, he doesn’t know, but he turns on his ask and allows anonymous asks too. He browses through the anon3456789 tag for a bit, reading all the Carla gossip.

 

Eddie and Carla were spotted on a yacht a few weeks ago Richie gathers, ignoring the cold feeling in his chest. Everybody seems to think that was a stunt, though, to cover her homosexuality. 

 

Richie wants that to be true.

 

After thirty minutes he finally gets an ask. He opens a new tab to answer it, wondering why it took so long in the first place.

 

**infinite-carla asked:** yOU OPENeD yoOuR AsK BOX????

 

He takes a second to wonder why they had to type it like that before he replies. 

 

 **anonymous3456789:** yEAh i DiD!!!!???!

 

Making sure it’s public, he clicks post. That opens the floodgates apparently, because in the next few minutes he has a hundred asks. 

 

**miramira-onthewall asked:** lol you should write songs some of ur stuff is kinda poetic until u make a dumb joke lmfaooo

 

**anonymous3456789:** that’s ironic

 

Mistake, he knows immediately, but he leaves it up. There’s a little thrill he feels when he clicks post. He almost wants people guessing it’s him, he wants to see the people that can see through the stunts. 

 

He just really doesn't want the people he knows guessing it’s him. That’s completely different.

  
  


-

  
  


The first time Richie ever told anyone he wasn’t straight it was his cat, Milk Face. She was four years old and definitely didn’t understand a single thing Richie was saying. It was 2006, and Richie thought this was the first step to being  _ out _ . He didn’t want it to be a secret anymore. He was mostly wrong. 

 

He told his parents, and his mom didn’t really mind either way. She wanted to love him, and although Richie never knew if she was capable of it, she tried. His dad, however, was a bit less forgiving. He told Richie, right to his face, that he hoped Richie would grow out of it.

 

So Richie dated girls despite the fact his mum hated it. Of course, Richie hated it too, but in his mind he would just live as straight Richie until he left school and escaped everybody. He wanted to move to Portland or maybe even somewhere crazy, like New York. There, he could introduce himself as the real, uncloseted Richie Tozier.

 

Things didn’t go to plan when he signed with a record label. He freaked out. The entirety of the United States was a platform much larger than the one he had envisioned himself coming out to. Of course, his dream was to be a musician, he couldn’t cancel that for some stupid, little insecurity.

 

When Richie’s first album only came out as a moderate success, he figured that was it. His first single had a pretty shitty radio-run, and he could only assume his second would do even worse. That’s how it usually went, right? And then he’d fizzle out of the spotlight and run away to New York with the money he made.

 

Of course, that never happened. His second single hit number one, gathered a large amount of certifications and caused him to rise to such a high level of fame so quickly that Richie couldn’t keep a hold of himself anymore. 

 

He has his moments, the ones where people can catch a glimpse of the the fun, flamboyant, careless Richie, but usually he is a stoic, emotionless reminder of who he used to be. 

 

Richie hates himself. Not  _ himself  _ but he hates Richie Tozier, Musician.

  
  


-

  
  


Richie goes out with friends one night and takes a few pictures with fans. He notices them quickly spread through Tumblr with comments such as ‘ _ he doesn’t look healthy _ ’ attached to them. He thinks he looks fine. Maybe a little bit thinner but what else could be expected? He hasn’t been doing much.

 

**princerichie:** he looks sooo unhealthy i feel bad for my baby sugar plum pie bum :( 

 

**tozierian:** i think he looks perfectly happy and healthy

 

He sighs.

  
  


-

  
  


_ I might’ve made a mistake. Maybe. I stood up for myself. The day of my last post I stood up to my ‘bosses’ (loosely used, again). That was that was about, the whole lapdog thing, but the more I think about it, the more I realise how surreal my life is. I want to quit sometimes, quit everything and live the life of a hermit. Sounds good. They know I’m gay now, I guess, for sure. Proud of myself, though.  _

 

**5h-forever asked:** i dont get y u dont just quit ur job?? wouldn’t u be free then?

 

**anonymous3456789:** i love my job lmao just not this side of it

 

**carlas-girl asked:** laughing at everyone thinking youre still CARLA… u obviously arent but this acc is shady af

 

**anonymous3456789:** shjddjd i already said i wasnt idk how to make the rest of the greasies believe me

 

**pout-the-trout22 asked:** THIS ISNT CARLA EVERYBODY!!! IT COULD BE ANYONE STOP ASSUMING!!!!! 

 

**anonymous3456789:** thx

  
  


-

  
  
  


A new group conversation is made by Stan the next day. Richie checks the other members; Bev, Ben and Eddie. Of course. 

 

**Stan:** We should start organising a trip.

 

**Beverly:** It would be really great to have a break from all the wedding planning,, kill me

 

**Ben:** i’m free

 

**Ben:** mostly

 

**Ben:** someone asked me to start a mariachi band with them but i dont think they were serious so i’m not tying myself down

 

**Richie:** lmfaoooOOO who ARE you

 

**Stan:** It’s Stanley Uris

 

**Richie:** no I was talking to Ben. A mariachi band ?????????? What

 

**Eddie:** HI I’M WITH FAMILY BUT FREE WHENEVER XX

 

**Ben:** ok next week we’re going camping!

  
  


-

  
  


“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” Ben smiles from the driver’s seat. “One day we’ll look back at these years and remember them as the best years of our lives.”

 

_ Yeah,  _ Richie thinks,  _ for you _ . Management had been trying to contact him for the last two days, and of course he has been ignoring them every time. He refuses to fly to England on his break to take part in some scandal he never wanted in the first place. His friends don’t even know the full extent of his publicity stunts, that’s how bad they are. 

 

They probably know the pregnancy is fake, but they don’t know hanging out with Greta was management’s idea. Or even all the club shit in the past, maybe. He never really talked to any of them about the publicity stunts, because that would mean telling them  _ why _ , and somehow that was and still is a terrifying concept to him.

 

It was when he was first sent off on little night outs to be photographed with pretty girls that he stopped talking to his friends about how he was, and how he was feeling. 

 

Sometimes he misses the first girl he was paired off with, Betty Ripsom, aspiring musician. She was kind, clearly forced into it by her own management, and they had become good friends. She was the one that lasted a while, up to six months, but that was years ago, when his career was first taking off. He should really call her. She’d probably understand more than anyone else.

 

That was well before Richie ever knew any of his now-bestfriends, aside from Beverly who he had grown up with. She knew, then, that it wasn’t real. He wonders if she still knows none of the girls he’s seen with are real.

 

Richie remembers how management had explained they wanted him to be seen with Betty. “It will make you look better, like a real, reliable man.” They had said. 

 

Whatever. The past is in the past. Maybe if he just  _ ignores  _ his management they’ll just put Greta Bowie and Little Tozier to rest. Definitely not, actually. God. Richie is so stuck. This isn’t something that can just  _ fade  _ out. If no one ever says the baby isn’t his, or that she isn’t pregnant, the only way to end it would be in a big scandal.

 

It’s what they want.

 

“I’m really excited.” Eddie says with a boyish grin. Damn, Richie is more than stuck. There’s even a trace of stubble on his chin. 

 

There are times in his life when one of his problems becomes so big it overshadows every other one. He kinda likes it, because this whole management thing has stopped him thinking of Eddie. 

 

Richie knows eventually he’s going to have an alone moment with him, especially on this trip, even if they’re only out here for two days. He barely spends time with Eddie, even with other people around, and they haven’t had an actual substantial conversation since, well, maybe 2016. And, wow. It’s 2018 now.

 

“Electric.” Richie mumbles, leaning his head against the window. The road is rough, and Richie’s skull keeps bumping against the glass, but he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t want to look at Eddie. Not  _ now _ , when these feelings of nostalgia are taking over his whole body and he feels so happy and sad at the same time.

 

“Are you okay?” Stan asks hesitantly from beside him in the back seat.

 

“Mmm. Just a bit tired from spending all night with your mom.” He jokes.

 

“You’re actually disgusting.” Beverly turns around to face Richie from her place in the passenger seat, but she’s smiling so Richie clearly can’t be  _ that  _ disgusting.

 

“Shut up. We’re nearly there, so Richie, you better wake up and help with the tents.” Stan scolds.

 

“Everyone else can do it for me.” Richie smiles softly, “Why would I have to do it? I’m trying to live my best life.”

 

“Because you’re sharing with Eddie and he’s useless at building tents.” Ben says. 

 

“What?” Richie and Eddie say at the same time, for different reasons, probably. He’s sharing with Eddie? Richie and Eddie? In a tent together? What the actual fuck? This wasn’t what he signed up for. How is he meant to live like that?

 

He can imagine Eddie’s sleepy morning voice already, the curve of Eddie’s back as he’s getting dressed. Maybe he’ll have the decency to do it when Richie’s not around. 

 

Richie feels like he’ll never get away. He doesn’t need to see a yawning Eddie, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he doesn’t need to see him stretching and smiling and laughing at all.

 

Richie still remembers Eddie’s early morning giggles from when they lived in each other’s pockets, constantly staying at the other’s apartment, how unlively but lively he was at the same time, clearly not fully awake. He doesn’t know if he can handle that. 

 

He’s curious, though, to see if Eddie is still the same as then. He knows that he, himself, is not.

  
  


-

  
  


_ “Richie…” Eddie whispers, pushing him with his index finger, “Wake up.” _

 

_ “Why?” Richie mumbles, his voice gruff from sleep. _

 

_ Eddie giggles, “You sound so dumb right now.” _

 

_ Richie smiles into his blankets and wonders if Eddie can see. _

  
  


_ - _

  
  


“I can pitch a tent!” Eddie squawks, “I’m, like… a wildlife warrior!”

 

“No, you can’t. That’s why I picked the solo tent.” Stan says.

 

“Why are we even sharing at all? Can we not afford an extra tent?” Richie asks with the most genuine smile he can muster and a little chuckle. Neither turn out genuine in the slightest, of course, but his friends aren’t paying attention to him.

 

“It’s called  _ bonding. _ ” Ben says matter-of-factly. “This is going to be so great! We should do campfire songs!”

 

“Sick.” Richie mumbles. The further out they go, the worse his phone reception gets, he’s scared he’ll have none by the time they’re up there, so he decides to download the Tumblr app temporarily and he writes up a quick post.

 

_ An unwanted scenario has led me to this statement so I may sound a bit angry but, a big fuck you to whatever butterfly effect shit has brought me to this moment. _

 

And if he posts that to the sound of Eddie asking about the tents, well, no one has to know.

  
  


-

  
  


It’s around the campfire that night that something dawns upon Richie. He’s watching Eddie, listening to Eddie, so transfixed by Eddie that his own realisation almost knocks the wind out of him.

 

Eddie is exactly the same as he always has been. And Richie still loves him.

 

God, here Richie had been hoping, he always hopes, that Eddie had somehow morphed into someone completely new, an Eddie that isn’t the goddamn exact same as the one Richie fell in love with.

 

It’s a stupid, thoughtless dream, but Richie doesn’t want to love Eddie. It just makes everything so much  _ more  _ complicated than it already is, because he isn’t just caught up in gay rumours. He’s tied up in a whole fucking conspiracy about two boys in love that’s only half true. 

 

Every single time he hasn’t seen Eddie for a while, a little part of him tricks himself.  _ You don’t love him, just who he was.  _ And every single time, to no fault, he proves himself wrong.

 

He’s still smiling that same grin and laughing the same laugh and his eyes are still the same colour.  _ God, of course they are. _ What the fuck was Richie thinking? Even for a second.

 

“You’re kinda spacey, hey?” Beverly nudges him, “Maybe you wanna sleep?”

 

“Fuck off.” He laughs, bringing his warming beer to his lips, swallowing the bitter taste. “Last thing I need is to be asleep.”

 

Bev brushes it off, but Richie’s heart is racing because it’s so true. He doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to go into that tent. 

 

“Fine. Have it your way.” Bev qgrins at him, teasing. “I’m not dragging your ass into your tent once you pass out. It’s gonna happen.”

 

“Please.” Richie waves her off, draining the last of his beer and standing up to put it in the bin.

 

As much as he’d like to pretend he isn’t stumbling, that the airy, floating feeling he gets when he is on his way to completely wasted isn’t present, he can’t.

 

“Taking your advice!” He shouts, flashing Bev a cheesy grin and climbing into his tent. If anything, this is the best time to go.

 

There are two blow-up mattresses, and Richie quickly flops onto his and into the unzips sleeping bag on it. Everything is so soft. The mattress, the makeshift blanket, his own hair tickling against his forehead. The air is soft, too. His whole body is tingling like he’s being brushed by feathers, and he can’t help but smile at the roof of the tent.

 

It’s a bit of a surprise he hasn’t really  _ talked  _ to Eddie yet. Sure, there had been a few words, but the last sentences he had shared with Eddie were when he was about to go into the meeting.

 

He doesn’t want to think about it, but sometimes his life just feels like a bad book, and he’s just sitting in those last few chapters, with a vague incline on how it’s going to end.

 

Richie isn’t an idiot, of course he knows his story ends when everybody finds out everything. It’s inevitable, and there’s no plot twist to get him out of this, no alternate ending. The only thing he doesn’t know is what his epilogue is. Is it,  _ Richie drops his kids off at school and kisses his husband on the cheek before leaving for work  _ or is it  _ Richie lived and died with many regrets, his funeral was very public _ . 

 

Maybe this continues on for years. Maybe he doesn’t tell anybody he’s gay. Maybe he waits for everything else to fade first, the lights and the microphones and the synthesis of all that makes his career. Maybe he can’t.

 

And  _ maybe _ he’s crying, right now, trying to stare at the stars and seeing a stupid, dark green tent instead. He can’t even deny the burning in the back of his throat. Richie’s eyes are alien planets with endless oceans flooding over the edges. The dregs of his good mood are bleeding out and seeping into the cracks of his heart and he can’t even brace himself for the zipping of the tent.

 

“Hey, Rich.” Eddie mumbles, stumbling in.  _ Rich. Rich. Fucking Rich.  _ As if it’s 2015 and everything is new and it’s fun to play with Richie’s heart because none of them realise it’s happening, and as if it’s still nice to hear the blurry yet familiar nickname from Eddie’s dumb, pink mouth. “Oh shit, are you crying?” Suddenly, he sounds much more awake.

 

“Um, what, no.” Richie says, pretending his voice isn’t even a little strained, and that there aren’t tears still dripping down his cheeks.  _ Rich _ .

 

“You’re still crying.” Eddie whispers, frozen by the tent’s entry. He quickly zips it up, as if he doesn’t want Ben, Bev or Stan to see. Richie is thankful. “Why?”

 

“I’m allowed to cry.” Richie mutters defensively. He kind of isn’t. It’s not like he’s never cried in front of people, but he usually has a reason, one everybody knows about. Or he waits until everybody is looking the other way.

 

“Of course you are!” Eddie assures him as if he needs it, but it’s only making Richie cry more. It’s all silent. Everything is silent. There’s just breathing and crickets. Eddie’s so  _ good.  _ It doesn’t make sense. They drifted. They stopped with the touches and the glances and the friendship so why is he still being so  _ good?  _ Right now, why isn’t he just lying down on his own mattress and acting like he hasn’t seen a thing?

 

Richie probably looks like the biggest fuck up right now. Eddie and Richie have barely had a full, deep conversation in years. And this whole trip just feels so sudden, one second he was crying alone on his floor and the next second he’s crying in a tent with Eddie’s eyes on him.

 

“Do you need to… talk about it?” Eddie asks, hesitant. God, they’re strangers. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with Richie, probably.

 

“Yeah,” Richie says, honestly, “but I probably won’t.”

 

Not for a selfless reason, either. He could say he doesn’t want to burden Eddie with his problems, or everyone has their own baggage, or anything really. But the reality of it is he wants to talk about it  _ without  _ talking about it. He wants to get it all out, all the feelings and the secrets and the things he has always wanted to say, but he needs to keep them protected, he needs to protect himself.

 

Eddie stays silent, he probably doesn’t know what to do. He probably feels so awkward. Richie does, too, and he doesn’t blame Eddie either. For anything really. When Richie thinks about it, God, something happened between them, and he still can’t decipher what. He doesn’t remember ignoring Eddie from his side, but then again he doesn’t remember there being a single moment that just defined the end of their friendship. It was more of a slow fade. 

 

Maybe it was just him and his corrosive personality that chased Eddie away. Fuck, he probably hates Richie. He hasn’t thought that before. But it could be true. What else breaks friendships apart? Especially friendships that were so  _ strong _ . 

 

Richie very well might be hyperventilating right now.

 

“Are you really  _ oka _ y?” Eddie says in an even tone, like he just knows there’s so much more to it. In a way, Eddie might still know Richie more than anybody else, at least who Richie still thinks he is. He might never be able to return to that.

 

“Um.” He mumbles. “Yeah.”

 

“Richie, you’re still crying.” Eddie points out, a strain in his voice. Richie doesn’t want to look at him, he doesn’t want to see the worry that are his furrowed brows, or even the slightest bit of colour in his eyes.

 

He’s not lying though, Richie can still feel the wetness on his cheeks, and the tent doesn’t block out the cold air. It makes his cheeks freeze. He can’t even go red from embarrassment. 

 

Richie feels like he’s meeting Eddie again for the first time in years, like he almost needs to introduce himself, because Eddie  _ knew him _ , more than anybody else, he knew Richie like the back of his own hand, and now, he realises, Eddie doesn’t really know him at all. 

 

“Mm.” He mutters, willing this conversation to just  _ end _ . Much like all their other interactions in the past few years. Eddie’s better than that, though. He’s still the exact same guy in an aged skin. He’s not going to let it go until Richie looks better, he knows this. This isn’t what he wants. He thought that if he was going to talk to him, it’d at least be pleasantries. Even that made him deeply anxious, just thinking of seeing Eddie. Now he’s talking to him, because he walked in on him  _ crying _ .

 

“Do you want me to call Greta for you?” Eddie asks, and Richie’s stomach sinks. Eddie really has no idea. 

 

Richie doesn’t hate her, she can be quite nice sometimes, but there’s no reason that he’d ask her for consolation. Eddie doesn’t know that, though, he doesn’t know a thing. He thinks Richie would want his perfect, pretty, little girlfriend to cheer him up.

 

It dawns on Richie that at some point after Eddie, he reserved himself from everybody else too. Perhaps he made this into much more of a mess than it had to be. If he had just told everybody, not even that he’s gay, just that these were stunts, he might’ve had some people behind him. He placed himself in this position, he made himself alone. 

 

In a bout of confidence, Richie sniffs and asks, “Why?”

 

“I just thought you might want to talk to her.” Eddie says, and Richie actually does scoff this time. “What?”

 

“Well, firstly,” Richie sniffs wetly, “I don’t have her number.”

 

“How?”

 

Of all the voices in Richie’s mind, for some strange reason he can hear Hilary Duff singing  _ “Why not, take a crazy chance?”  _ and he decides that his life isn’t already interesting enough as it is. 

 

“If you really want it, go ask my management team.” Richie says. He was so tired a few minutes ago, deep waves of exhaustion filling his body in currents. “Goodnight.” He says, possibly rudely, and rolls over, to try and sleep.

 

He can’t, of course, he never can. He pulls out his phone instead, glad to see he does in fact have service, and turns the brightness down to not light up the entire tent. He pulls up Tumblr fairly quickly, the app still on his phone, and writes another post.

 

_ I am revealing myself, I think, and I don’t want to. To you or to him or to anyone else. The fact that you don’t know who I am is comforting, but eventually someone might find me out. They’ll have no proof, just a few theories, but that doesn’t make a difference when people really think they’re right. _

 

_ This isn’t me saying I’m Carla, please don’t take it that way, this is me saying that once people make up their minds, that’s it. To some of you, I am Carla Bordeaux, because your minds have been made up, and although I’ve said I’m not, you haven’t been swayed. Eventually someone will think I am who I really am, and that will be it. Nothing will change your minds. I wish I was actually who you thought I was. _

 

_ At the moment, I’m fine. You don’t know the public side of me, and no one else knows the private side of me. When they mix, I don’t know what will happen. Just know that if I deactivate I have a reason. _

 

_ In other news, I realised I am still in love. Of course I knew it already, really, but let it be known this is bad news. _

 

He decides to reply to a few asks that come in afterwards.

 

**polaroidbordeaux asked:** i used to think u were carla but im kinda realising u arent

 

**anonymous3456789: ,,** a woke thottie

 

**ndiiigoblue asked:** What do you mean you realised you’re still in love???? You said you were in love in your first post…??

 

**anonymous3456789:** i guess i just kinda fooled myself into thinking i was in love with the idea of him

 

**Anonymous asked:** im going thru a kinda similar situation on a smaller scale ig haha but ur blog is srsly helping me tbh!! its good 2 know im not the only one that has to hide their sexuality bc of other people :// i hope u get through this!!!!! 

 

**anonymous3456789:** i really really really really hope you do too

  
  


-

  
  


When Richie wakes up, the tent is empty. He’s glad about it, because he can go on Tumblr and go through the  _ anonymous3456789  _ tag without the fear of anyone seeing him. Even though his font is small, he’s paranoid. 

  
The top post is his own, the entry having two thousand notes. The second post only one thousand notes, and is an ask that isn’t one of Richie’s. He reads it and pales.

 

**Anonymous asked:** Why do you think anon is Eddie?

 

**reddie-savage:** Okay so I’ve made a little list of sorts. Firstly, how much he tries to draw attention away from Carla. It’s like, okay Eddie, we get it, you don’t want your beard to see it. No but really if the media catch wind of it people might start linking it to him bc of Carla. 

 

Secondly, the term boss is used loosely. THIS IS HIS MANAGEMENT!!!!! 

 

Thirdly, he says he’s in love with a “man”?? Y’all remember that iconic interview where Eddie called Richie a man???? I fucking dont!!

 

Fourthly, he thinks the “man” doesn’t love him back which, as heartbreaking as it is, maybe reddie is one sided. 

 

**kaspbrackets reblogged and added:** I’d like to add that anon says they arent really close anymore… like, when was the last time eddie and richie had an interaction?? over a year ago??

 

we’ve all assumed reddie is real, but maybe richie really is straight, and, as much as it pains me to say it, maybe richie is exactly how the media portrays? We know they’ve drifted. Maybe they had a fight about the rumours and it ruined them? Like all the antis say..

 

**reddie-is-fake reblogged and added:** one step in the right direction, two steps back. EDDIE IS STRAIGHT!! y’all are delusional.

 

Richie reads it, but focuses on only a few words.  _ Maybe Richie is exactly how the media portrays? _ It stings, and because he’s too compulsive, he makes a new post.

 

_ I will always be seen as the villain. I hope one day everybody realises I am not. Is it because of my IDGAF attitude? Is it because of how sweet  _ he  _ is? _

  
  


_ - _

  
  
  


“I fucking hate hiking.” Richie groans as they all walk. It’s a lovely day, with an almost cloudless sky. But that also means it’s hot, and Richie is sweating.

 

“Shut up, this is a bonding experience.” Ben says, “Look, the trail ends in three miles. We’re half way.”

 

“But then we have to walk back!” Richie says, “You think I was prepared to do that much walking? That’s like twelve miles all up.”

 

“Want me to carry you?” Ben laughs.

 

“You’re kidding, but I will take you up on your offer.” And without warning, Richie jumps on Ben’s back. He holds up Richie’s lanky and probably heavy weight with a grunt, but they don’t fall down. Richie can see Bev watching out of the corner of his eye, so he turns to shoot her a grin, but his eye catches onto Eddie, who’s shooting him the strangest look. His eyes are soft, and that’s all Richie can pay attention to. He has a small smile, too, but his eyes. They’re just…

 

Richie loses his breath, and looks away.

 

They’re just like how they used to be. And Richie is definitely going insane now, because they aren’t where they used to be, and Eddie couldn’t be looking at him like they are. They both know where they are, right? Except, really Richie doesn’t, Eddie could be having some kind of internal struggle too, maybe he thinks about what happened to them too, like Richie, until he’s sleepless and sad.

 

Oh God, Eddie is a person too. Eddie is a person who has his own problems and thoughts and emotions and Richie has  _ no  _ idea what is going through his mind. No one does, exactly like how no one knows what’s going through Richie’s mind too. 

 

There’s no way their distancing wasn’t something important to Eddie, too. 

 

With this new realisation, well, Richie feels like the biggest dickhead, because he never really tried. They started fizzling out and he just let it happen. Maybe he could’ve prevented it. This isn’t even about how he feels about Eddie, it’s about the genuine, pure, amazing friendship they had. 

 

His head slumps against Ben’s shoulder, still wondering what actually happened between the two. The sound of Eddie taking a hit from his inhaler fills the silence.

  
  


-

  
  


About half an hour after they get back, Richie’s phone rings. It’s an unfamiliar number, which he usually ignores, but he also feels a bit like being alone, so he excuses himself from everyone, avoiding their eyes, and answers it.

 

“Hello?” He says.

 

“I knew if I rang you off this number you’d answer.” They say, it’s a girl’s voice, familiar but generic enough that Richie can’t put a name to it.

 

“Who is this?” He asks.

 

“Katie Schnetzer. You’ve been dodging our calls, Richie.” She scolds, and he scoffs, walking further into the woods, behind the campsite toilet so no one will find him.

 

“Yeah, I realised.” Richie says, “It’s called ignoring you. Apparently you didn’t get the memo.”

 

“You can’t just ignore our calls. You have to-”

 

“Really? I have to answer now, do I? That’s funny. I’m about to hang up.” He says. She shrieks down the line.

 

“You can’t just keep doing this! I know you don’t like the publicity stunts but they are for your own benefit.”

 

“What? The benefit of what? Fuck yeah I hate stunting, it isn’t doing any good. Every problem I need to cover up is your fault in the first place! Our contract is almost done, Katie, I’m not going to be coming back to you, let it be known.” Richie says coldly, “And, I will have my lawyer look into the ethics of this.”

 

“We didn’t know you were homosexual, Richie. There has been no mistreation.” Katie argues. Richie crouches down on the ground and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and a lighter. He quickly lights one up, the stress of the situation needing to be dispersed.

 

“Yeah you didn’t know I was gay, but you assumed I was.” He takes a drag and exhales, “And that’s why all this happened. Please don’t try to tell me Betty was just to better my image. Why does an eighteen year old need to be in a six month relationship? Why did my image need to be bettered? And this  _ baby! _ I can’t fucking believe you brought a baby into this.”

 

“She isn’t  _ actually  _ pregnant, Richie, it hardly counts!” 

 

“Oh, yeah, avoid everything else I said. Fuck you, Katie, and fuck you Ray Management because those rats are probably listening. God, this is probably on speaker in a conference room. I’m done with your shit. Just let me  _ live _ .” He fumes, he literally fumes. He tries not to yell, but the anger in his voice seeps in and gives his words a harsh bite. Katie doesn’t reply for a few moments, her side of the call remains completely silent. 

 

“You don’t need to go stunting with Greta.” She says after a solid thirty seconds. 

 

“I want you to end this entire thing with Greta Bowie. The girlfriend claims, the pregnancy rumours, everything.” He says immediately, since, well, he wasn’t planning on going to England anyway. “I can’t handle this, it’s going to make me insane.”

 

“Is your mental health an actual issue here, Richie?” Katie asks, sounding genuinely worried. Of course she’s probably less worried about Richie’s mental health and more about how he could definitely sue if it were the case. 

 

“Keep this up and we’ll find out.” He says, honestly.

 

“Okay. Okay, Richie, we’ll see what we can do. You’ll have to come in. I promise this isn’t about you being gay at all.” She sounds resigned.

 

“Can you quit it with that?”

 

“What?”

 

“ _ I promise this isn’t about you being gay at all. _ Like, bullshit. It has everything to do with me being gay. You  _ literally  _ made me look like a womaniser to better my image. How are you covering that up? It damn fucking sure wasn’t to  _ help  _ with my bad reputation.” He’s right, he knows he is, and he wonders what she has for this.

 

“You’ll have to come in to discuss this.”

 

“No, I want to talk about this now before you have had a team of homophobic minions plan out an eloquent enough excuse.” 

 

He takes a long drag in the silence that is her reply.

 

“Are you camping?” Comes in ten seconds late.

 

“Fucking answer my question.”

 

“I thought so, the connection is really bad. We’ll have to postpone this discussion until another time, I’m afraid.” Katie says, fairly quickly but monotonous.

 

“No!”

 

“Bye, Richie! Answer my next phone call for details.”

 

The hang-up sound rings in his ear and he sighs loudly. Pocketing the phone. God, of course when he finally has her cornered. He wishes they were talking face to face, really, because she wouldn’t be able to hang up then. Of course, now she’s going to have a whole day to plan it out, and Richie only gets back home tomorrow.

 

A stick snaps behind Richie, and he nearly breaks his neck turning to see why. When he spots Beverly, he breathes a sigh of relief. “I thought you were some random person. Or a bear.”

 

Looking at Bev, she looks paler than usual, and her eyes are scarily wide, staring directly at Richie. Her mouth seems to be unable to decide between sporting a frown or gaping at Richie. He’s about to ask what’s up, when she speaks.

 

“I heard that.”

 

Richie is pretty sure his blood literally drops in temperature at this moment. His fingers start trembling slightly, and his face twitches noticeably. He wants to not react, to keep it to himself and stay level and casual and whatever else he can be, but the reality of his words kicks in. She heard, she heard that,  _ I heard that _ . The call? How much?

 

“Uh.”

 

He tries to speak but the words get stuck in his throat, and he can’t crouch anymore because he’s shaking so hard so he moves slightly back to sit on the dirt ground. He’s never felt lighter, but not in a freeing way, like he’s about to get caught in a breeze and never be seen again. She heard the phone call? The fucking phone call where Richie proclaimed himself gay and Ray Management homophobic, of course. Of all the things he had expected to hear from Beverly’s mouth, it wasn’t that.

 

Richie can feel the panic building up in his sternum because he isn’t exactly sure where to go from here and it’s terrifying, perhaps the scariest feeling he’s ever felt, and right now he’s a bubbling cauldron of anxiety and not much else. He can’t even think words, let alone say them, and Bev is still staring at him, with these massive, innocent eyes, and she looks a bit like a fish in a way because his mouth has settled to gape at Richie and usually he’d laugh but he can’t because he’s never felt worse in his life. He knows  _ this  _ is why he never came out, and it’s really so much worse this way.

 

In a sense he’s been outed. It’s like the anxiety is bubbling up his throat, and he feels so sick that he vomits. He vomits on the ground next to himself and it’s mostly nothing since all he’s had to eat today was a fire-cooked hotdog in a bun and he dry heaves for a solid thirty seconds, until his throat is scratchy and he can taste bile at the back of it. He scoots away from it, and stares at Bev, expecting something, anything.

 

But Bev just keeps staring. At Richie, at the vomit on the floor, at her own feet, everywhere. But she doesn’t say a word. 

 

Richie feels like he’s about to explode into a supernova of shame and he almost wants the ground to swallow him up, for him to be buried alive right now, because he’s so embarrassed and scared and stuck and lost and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

“I… um, what, what did you hear?” His voice is croaky, torn up, trying to sound casual, as if he isn’t on the floor after vomiting, sitting a metre away from said vomit. His fist wipes away at his eyes before any tears can form.

 

“You’re gay?” Bev asks.

 

His fingers honest to God feel numb, they’re tingling like he’s been sitting on them for the past thirty minutes, and his chest feels tight like something  _ else  _ was sitting on it for the past thirty minutes, too. He doesn’t know how to be serious or how to not be in a very panicked state in this moment, so he doesn’t fight his instincts.

 

“No, I’m Richie.” 

 

Beverly wheezes out a laugh, and it’s almost like she’s broken out of her state of shock, as she steps forward and kneels beside him. “Really, though?”

 

Richie doesn’t know how to respond, but luckily he’s saved by a certain Ben Hanscom, who yells at that moment: “Guys?”

 

“Please don’t say anything.” Richie begs Beverly, urgency in his voice. “Please.”

 

_ This  _ is why Richie never said anything. This fear, this tight, nauseous feeling in his chest. The feeling he’s a second away from not breathing. He wanted it to be on  _ his  _ terms.

 

Bev nods at him as Ben shows up around the corner, and Richie feels both more and less anxious at that moment. More, because Ben arriving adds an extra person to the equation, and less because Bev nodded, she agreed.

 

“Wow, okay, which one of you vomited?” Ben asks.

 

They must be a weird picture right about now. Richie sat, ass on the dirty floor, Bev crouched beside him, a small pool of vomit slightly away from them. Luckily, Richie probably looks a bit more calm than he did just half a minute ago.

 

“Me.” He says, “I… saw something.”

 

“What?” Ben asks.

 

“Nothing. I’m just really exhausted.” 

 

Bev stays silent, but puts her hand on his hip.

 

“I think I’m going to go have a nap.” Richie continues, “I’m not feeling myself.”

 

“Oh… kay…” Ben responds confused, as Richie walks back to their tents and slinks into his on his own, ignoring the voice of Stan who asks him a question.

  
  


-

  
  


When Richie wakes up the next morning, all he can feel is thankful that somehow he made it through the two days alive, and that they’ll all be in the car, roadtripping back in no time.

 

He looks over his shoulder, only to see that Eddie’s own inflatable mattress had been moved closer to his own. He can see Eddie’s silhouette laying not too far away from him, and his heart beats harder in his chest. The mattress squeaks beneath him.

 

“You awake, Richie?” Eddie whispers.

 

“Mm.” Richie mumbles and rolls over to face Eddie who is on his other side. He doesn’t expect him to be just  _ that  _ close, as in, he can feel Eddie’s breath fanning over his face. “Hello.”

 

He can’t even find it in himself to be anxious over this, because yet again one of his problems has overshadowed the rest. The girl in the tent next to his, Bev, knows that he’s gay, and the thought of it is enough to make breathing a little harder, because no one has ever known unless he’s wanted them to, and he wasn’t ready yet.

 

He  _ isn’t  _ ready yet.

 

Richie feels so sapped of every feeling besides fear towards Beverly. He knows Bev isn’t homophobic but the fact she has Richie’s biggest secret in her hands, well.

 

“Beverly told us what happened.”

 

Richie sucks in one long breath, and there, that’s what he feared. That Bev would say something, that she would tell the boys something, and he can feel himself shaking.

 

“Yeah?” He croaks, bowing his head down slightly so Eddie can’t see his face. He says it before he knows he can’t say anything anymore.

 

“Yeah! I, personally, didn’t know there were bears here. I probably wouldn’t have come here if I knew. They’re so dangerous.” Eddie says, and Richie freezes.

 

“What did Bev say?” Richie asks, “Because I want to hear it from her point of view.” He rushes to add.

 

Because, what? A bear? Did Bev  _ lie  _ for Richie? Is Bev even capable of  _ lying _ ?

 

“Bev was going to the bathroom but she heard you scream and she walked around and saw you and you know the rest.” Eddie says, confusedly, and Richie really doesn’t so he shakes his head.

 

“Keep going, I wanna see if she played it up.”

 

“Well, she said there was a bear a few metres away, and then she said she remembered from girl scouts that if you make a lot of noise it’ll leave, and then you vomited because you were so scared, and she started banging the tin wall of the bathroom and… it left.” Eddie says, “In hindsight, it really does sound like she was just making herself the hero.”

 

“Nah, that’s actually what happened.” Richie mutters. “It was crazy.” He’s suddenly tired, now he knows he doesn’t have anything to be worried about.

  
  


-

  
  


When he wakes up again, he’s in the back of a car. He notices Stan and Eddie in the front, and rests back into the position he was in before, trying to fall back asleep. He feels so relaxed, especially since Bev isn’t here, so he closes his eyes.

 

The more he thinks about it, the more Bev’s reaction puzzles him. She looked so confused, and shocked, and almost a bit scared. Maybe she’s secretly homophobic? Richie’s stomach drops with dread.

 

“Is it just me or is something a bit weird with their story? Like the whole bear thing?” Eddie says.

 

Richie immediately starts paying more attention.

 

“What do you mean?” Stan asks.

 

“It’s just, since when are there bears there?” Eddie says.

 

Richie’s eyes are still closed, and he fights to keep his breathing even so he looks just as he did before. He even opens his mouth a bit, like he knows he does in his sleep occasionally.

 

“It’s the woods. It’s unpredictable.”

 

“It wasn’t the woods, it was a protected, authorised campsite that happened to be in the woods.” Eddie says. “If you can’t trust authorised locations and products what can you trust?”

 

“I don’t know, Eddie, it’s a bit of a weird accusation to make under one piece of evidence. What are you even suggesting?”

 

“I just don’t think there was a bear. And it’s not just under one thing. This morning Richie woke up for about ten minutes, and all he wanted to know was what Bev said happened. And, and on the first night, Stan...”

 

Richie's breath catches.

 

“What?”

 

“I walked into the tent and he was just crying. He was just sitting there, staring at the roof, and crying. Why?”

 

“Eddie, what?” Stan says.

 

Richie tries to be still but there’s an itch in the middle of his forehead. Honestly he’s a little bit upset, mostly embarrassed, Eddie told Stan that he was crying, but then again, did he expect him to just keep it to himself? He’s probably curious as fuck, and Richie would be too. He can hardly blame him.

 

But still, Richie probably wouldn’t have told anyone else. He wishes Eddie could’ve just kept it to himself.

 

“Yeah, I know. And I asked if he wanted me to call Greta for him or something and he said he didn’t even have her number.” Eddie says, “Which is, well, I thought they were dating.”

 

“Me too.” Stan says with a confused tone, and Richie just knows he’s furrowing his brows and pouting his lip out a bit and probably looking exactly like a puppy.

 

“And then he literally said I should ask management for it because they have it. But he doesn’t?” Eddie says. There’s a spot on Richie's forehead that is really tingling with the need to be itched.

 

“Eddie, have you ever thought-”

 

Richie can’t resist it anymore, he scratches his forehead.

 

“Shh!” Eddie hushes Stan, “I think he might wake up soon!”

 

“His place is coming up anyway. Wake him up.”

  
  


-

  
  


_ I have decided I’m going to deactivate this account. Although it was great to vent while it lasted, this has gotten too big. I’m currently sitting on nine thousand followers, which is insane. All because you think I’m some celebrity. LmfaooooooooooOoOOooo. _

 

_ Circumstances have changed, slightly, but, yeah. Somebody recently found out I am gay, against my will too, and by recently I mean literally yesterday, and I’m still shaken up with it. I didn’t exactly want anyone to find out not on my terms, you know, but now that someone more personal to me knows I feel that this account has really outrun its course. Now my  _ really  _ private life and my less private life are mixed up I can’t keep this any longer. _

 

_ If they saw this, they would know it’s me, definitely. Perhaps even more now that I’m actually writing this post. I’m trying to keep specifics away to benefit myself, sorry if everything sounds a bit vague. But I really don’t want anyone to find this, it’s a bit too personal, and especially because I have shared a few big secrets on here. _

 

_ Sorry to anyone that’s upset by the blog’s deactivation, like, the ones who actually related to the blog, not the ones that were tryna figure out who I am, cause fuck off. _

 

_ And to anyone who doesn’t get to see this post. Although I’m sure a few screenshots will be circulating around. I hope you all see this so you can understand. It was fun being anonymous3456789. Thanks for all the nice messages I’ve been given. And for the last fucking time no I’m not Carla Bordeaux. _

 

Richie waits about ten minutes before he deactivates the account, so he knows enough people have seen the post, and then he calls his to take him to the Ray Management office building.

  
  


-

  
  


“You showed.” Katie Schnetzer grins, “Perfect, perfect. We’ve all been briefed?”

 

“Not exactly, what is this meeting for?” Richue asks, “For you to prove you aren’t homophobic or for you to actually solve some problems and figure out how to get rid of everything?”

 

“Just some discussion.”

 

“About how you aren’t homophobic?”

 

“Stop being rude, Richie, it’s embarrassing. Now sit.”

 

“You know what’s rude?” Richie asks, pulling out one of the chairs, “You ruining my life. And embarrassing, too, it’s pretty embarrassing when you try to cover your tracks.”

 

“Um.”

 

“So let’s get started. Why did you put me into a fake serious relationship when I was just eighteen?” He asks.

 

“To dispel gay rumours. Of course, that is not out of line, because at the time you were not openly homosexual with this company.”

 

Richie takes a seat, laughing slightly, “Okay.”

 

He zones out for the rest of the meeting, listening to them explain the same thing over and over just paraphrased is honestly getting tiring.  _ We had no idea you were gay, dispelling rumours is perfectly ethical. You had not previously stated your sexuality therefore we did not want speculation. At the time, it was what was best, as we had thought you were heterosexual.  _

 

It dawns on him now, that he would rather be a nobody who was out, someone with substance and a life, than a closeted somebody, found in magazine gossip articles and recommended on Instagram. And he probably would turn back time if he could, and right now he would just stop himself from ever signing his first record deal because no amount of success is worth this ache.

 

For one single, stupid, fleeting second he almost thinks he won’t make it out alive.

  
  


-

  
  


**Beverly Marsh @BMarsh:** _ @Richie im proud of you, sorry if it didn’t seem like it. text me _

 

Only from a mere hour ago.

 

Richie’s heart drops, just from the fact he’s getting any recognition over The Incident. He kind of figured now he could just, well, drop off the map. At least for a few weeks. He hadn’t expected something so public. It means a lot to Richie, really, but now it means he needs to text Bev.

 

He types something simple like  _ hello  _ or  _ hey,  _ he can’t really remember, he’s shaking. Fuck, he only thinks now that no one has ever seen him like this. Ever. And he really wants to keep it that way because he feels like these moments are his lowest. On the floor, leaning on the leg of his couch, in a too-big penthouse apartment because a house is even bigger and he doesn’t feel too big himself nowadays, he doesn’t feel like he can take up any room. It would be like floating through space, just drifting, forever, non-stop. 

 

The thought makes his throat itch.

 

He almost turns his phone off, not wanting a response, but first he makes a call, and he pulls his phone up to his ear to just listen for a second. There are a few rings before he can hear the clunk of a house phone leaving its deck.

 

“Hello?” Comes a soft voice.

 

“Mom? Is that you?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady. He doesn’t know if it’s working.

 

“Who is this?” The woman asks, and Richie is vaguely aware her voice is possibly too soft to be his mother’s.

 

“Sorry, is this not 109 Costello Avenue?” Richie asks. This is the number he has had saved for his mother for quite some time, and he swears he has spoken to her on it before. Not in a couple months, albeit, but still.

 

“Yes, it is… who is this?” The woman asks again.

 

“Does Maggie Tozier live there?”

 

“Honey,” The woman says, “she and her husband moved about two months ago.”

 

Richie feels his stomach drop. His own family moved houses without ever telling him. Sure, he knew his dad always struggled to see eye to eye with him, but his mother. She always at least tried.

 

When he told her he wasn’t straight, she was the one who tried to love him despite it. When he got his record deal, she was the one who encouraged him to move to Los Angeles. 

 

“Oh, well. Thank you.” He says, and hangs up without waiting for a response.

 

He drops his phone on the couch behind him and pulls his knees up to his chest. Before he knows it, his cheeks are wet with tears and there is a sizeable soak of wetness on his knees from where the tears have caught.

 

His family doesn’t care about him anymore. He accidentally outed himself to who he would consider his oldest friend. His management team is convinced he needs to be someone’s boyfriend to be loved by his fans. Even the Reddie shippers are convinced that he’s a bad guy who led Eddie on.

 

Not for the first time, Richie really feels like his life is falling apart.

  
  


-

  
  


_ 6:15pm _

 

**Richie:** hey

 

_ 6:29pm _

 

**Bev:** I just want you to know that I love you and support you and it may have seemed like I was reacting badly but it was just because I’ve known you almost my entire life and it shocked me that I didn’t already know

 

**Bev:** and I haven’t told anyone (even Ben, which is hard bc he’s my fiancé but I wouldn’t ever expose you like that)

 

**Bev:** I’d really love to meet up for like, coffee or something so we can really talk about it and get into it because I’m honestly confused, but only if you want!!

 

_ 11:53pm _

 

**Bev:** Richie I’m so sorry I never should have publicly tweeted like that

  
  


_ - _

  
  


_ 12:43am _

 

**Eddie:** is it true??

  
  


-

  
  


**RICHIE TOZIER’S SECRET TUMBLR ACCOUNT: GAY, MANIPULATED AND… IN LOVE?!**

11:30PM, PENNY WISE

 

_ So, we’ve all heard celebrities make jokes about how they have secret accounts that aren’t personally linked to them, however, have any of these ever been found? And has it ever unleashed a bombshell as big as this? _

 

_ Now, as a self-proclaimed Richie Tozier super fan, catching the first winds of this story are as exciting to me as when Tozier announced his second album. I’d just like to say that this is a theory based purely on the evidence of the Tozier Tumblr Squad and is not confirmed. _

 

_ What we know is that there was a blog on Tumblr called  _ anonymous3456789 _. They had openly stated they were gay/struggling with their sexuality, and that they were in love with a man. To the average person, this could be literally anyone, but to the super fans of Richie Tozier, they knew exactly who they were dealing with. _

 

_ In the hours since the blog’s deactivation, Tozier super fans have turned into super sleuths and collected a pile of interesting evidence. Let’s take a look and the two most finger-to-chin pieces. _

 

**_Beverly Marsh is proud… of what?_ **

 

_ The very last post on the anon Tumblr account, a few short paragraphs dedicated to the deactivation of the blog, anon stated:  _ “Somebody recently found out I am gay, against my will too, and by recently I mean literally yesterday, and I’m still shaken up with it.”

 

_ Here’s the suspicious part, just later that day Beverly Marsh, longtime close friend of Tozier, publicly tweeted out:  _ “im proud of you, sorry if it didn’t seem like it. text me”

 

_ Many people have begun speculating that Marsh is the one who found out, and that maybe it didn’t go down too well, which is why anon was shaken up and why Marsh was sorry. Interesting. _

 

**_Who are you in love with, anon?_ **

 

_ Here’s the thing. Anyone with an Internet connection knows what Reddie is.  _

 

_ When Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier first became friends, everyone was taken aback. No one expected them to ever even know each other, they were the most unlikely duo. It was that, maybe, that made people fall in love with the idea of these two men falling in love. _

 

_ Or, maybe it was something else. (Make sure to read my  _ _ Top Ten Moments Reddie Broke The Internet _ _ article). _

 

_ In one post, anon openly declares that he is still in love with the man he always has been, and when Reddie shippers realised that this most was from a weekend both Richie and Eddie were M.I.A. (and not to mention best pal Ben Hanscom tweeted something about a camping trip with friends)... well… it isn’t hart to connect the dots. _

 

_ So, those are the two most convincing pieces of evidence that Richie Tozier had a secret Tumblr account where he exposed his most delicious secrets.  _

 

_ Do you believe it? Poll below! _

 

**YES ---- 69%**

**NO  ----- 31%**

  
  


-

  
  


Richie really doesn’t know what to do.

 

It’s been a week since the article, and subsequent articles, have come out. He wakes up every day with dread in his stomach and his heart in his throat. He, apparently has one hundred and ninety nine unread messages, which is about one hundred and ninety two more than he had before, and fifty missed calls.

 

Occasionally, someone will knock on his front door. Richie thinks it might be Bev, but he’s never bothered looking through the peephole. He just sits completely silent until the knocking stops and whoever it is leaves.

 

He knows that staying in and ignoring the controversy is definitely making it worse, but he can’t do anything. He almost wishes he still had the anonymous3456789 blog so he could rant about it somewhere.

 

But he’s back where he began, even worse off than before, really, which he never knew was possible until that article was published. He feels, yet again, like his mind is bubbling over the edges like a cauldron boiling for too long. He wants to screw his head on tight so the pressure makes his skull pop.

 

He did this to himself.

  
  


-

  
  


**Eddie:** please reply

  
  


-

  
  


Richie has his first shower a week after the article comes out, and half way into it he ends up sitting on the tiled floor, his bare body completely washed over by the water. It’s calming, sort of, and it makes him want to close his eyes and fall asleep. Maybe he would, if he hadn’t just woken up from a twelve hour sleep.

  
  


-

  
  


He writes out a hundred statements to post in his notes, some of which deny that he was anon altogether, some confess that it was him and beg for understanding, some barely address the controversy at all and instead focus on the broad subject of identity.

 

He doesn’t post any of them, though. He wants to, of course he does, but he probably needs his management’s approval, or something, if they haven’t dropped him yet.

 

There’s a knock at the door, and it makes him flinch. It’s hard and heavy and the tenth day in a row that they’ve shown up.

  
  


-

  
  


**Bev:** riiiicccchHHHHHHIE

 

**Bev:** this was my fault I’m so so sorry

 

**Bev:** Are you mad at me or just shutting the world out

 

**Bev:** I love you and support you

 

**Bev:** I’m sorry

 

**Bev:** fuuuuck richie please

 

Richie stares at his phone and debates how to respond. She’s been texting him multiple times a day since the article came out. Richie doesn’t blame her, however he knows that texting her back means texting everyone else back.

 

Including Eddie.

 

Eddie has sent Richie a handful of messages, all along the lines of  _ answer me _ , which Richie would rather not do. If Eddie is even the slightest bit curious, which he definitely is, he would’ve found the posts. And, well. Eddie is smart. He would know that they’re about him.

 

Maybe tomorrow Richie will actually answer the door when Bev shows up tomorrow.

  
  


-

  
  


_ Knock, knock. _

 

Maybe not.

  
  


-

  
  


Richie is barely existing anymore. It just feels like his apartment is purgatory and he’s floating through it like a ghost who isn’t quite good or bad enough to be sorted into heaven or hell.

 

Management calls him five times in one hour, and maybe they’ve realised that this is serious. Whenever Richie goes online, his entire Twitter timeline fighting about whether or not anon really is Richie.

 

The general consensus seems to be  _ where is Richie? _

  
  


-

  
  


_ “Hi, it’s Beverly. I don’t know if you’re even listening to your voicemails but… fuck, Richie. You’re being so dramatic. No one has heard from you, I even asked Betty Ripsom for fuck’s sake. I’m sorry this is happening but… stop hiding.” _

 

Richie feels like he has the right to hide. His whole life has been ripped from underneath his feet like a rug, and yeah Richie sort of hated that rug but that doesn’t mean it had to be taken from him. 

 

He still wakes up every day with the same dreadful feeling in his stomach, like his life finished without his permission, and yeah he always knew keeping that blog was risky business but he never really expected anything to ever come out from it.

 

_ “It’s Beverly, again. I want to say I didn’t mean it when I called you dramatic, but… I really did. Answer your phone.” _

 

Why isn’t Richie allowed to be dramatic? He spent a majority of his life acting like he was fine, you’d think he’d be entitled to a few weeks of not being entirely put together.

 

Not for the first time, or the last time, he wishes he wasn’t gay, and that he never met Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. Maybe then everything would be less difficult.

 

That stupid fucking knock has started again and Richie, although he wasn’t before, is suddenly mad at Beverly. She shouldn’t be allowed to tell him not to be  _ dramatic _ . She has no idea what is going through his mind, how he feels like his life has already ended. 

 

Before he can stop himself, he marches over to the door to make his first bit of human contact since everything surfaced. 

 

_ You don’t understand _ , he imagines herself telling her as he unlocks the door.

 

_ I can’t just get over it _ , he thinks as he opens the door.

 

_ You’re not Beverly Marsh,  _ he realises as he becomes face to face with one Eddie Kaspbrak.

 

And fuck. Richie looks like shit. He hasn’t brushed or washed his hair, has barely showered, fuck, he probably has a sheen of sweat across his skin from how hot it’s been. It’s no longer cold in a lonely sort of way. It’s hot like Richie has been in a desert for weeks, slowly dying of dehydration.

 

“Hi.” Eddie says, looking around nervously.

 

He’s nervous? Richie must look on the edge of a panic attack.

 

“Hello…” He says, because that’s what you say when someone says hi.

 

“I… honestly didn’t expect you to open your door.” Eddie sounds like he just can’t find the right words, and yeah, Richie gets that.

 

“Has it been you coming every day?” Richie asks, arms fastened on the door and the doorway so Eddie can’t walk into his apartment yet.

 

“Yeah.” Eddie says, fiddling with his belt.

 

Richie nods and moves his arms, “Want a drink?”

 

He sounds surprisingly coherent for someone who is currently struggling to breathe. It feels like every breath he takes isn’t deep enough, and he wonders if Eddie can tell. Or relate.

 

Eddie nods and walks into the apartment, immediately to the kitchen just how he used to over a year ago, and Richie can hear the running faucet before he even begins following Eddie to the kitchen. He needs a moment to catch his breath.

 

He doesn’t know what Eddie wants. That’s a lie. In the back of his mind he knows what Eddie wants; the truth, most likely.

 

Richie walks slowly, left foot right foot, to the kitchen, where Eddie is. Eddie. Eddie, who Richie loves, who used to be his best friend, who Richie drifted from, who Richie basically got outed for being in love with to everyone on the planet.

 

“Thank you.” Eddie says, tipping his glass of water at Richie.

 

Richie visibly cringes, finding manners difficult, “You’re… welcome.”

 

There’s a silent moment, where Richie waits for whatever Eddie has to say and Eddie looks like he’s still planning what to say, before he takes a deep breath and sighs.

 

“I really didn’t expect you to open the door.” He blurts out, quick and high-pitched like a mimic of himself.

 

_ I really didn’t expect you to be behind the door,  _ Richie thinks, but he nods instead, moving his weight from foot to foot, biting his tongue for once in his life.

 

“What I’m saying is I don’t know what to say.” Eddie admits.

 

“What about?” Richie jokes, as if they both don’t know what happened. Eddie doesn’t laugh.

 

“Richie.” He mumbles, instead. “Was it really you?”

 

Richie’s heart is beating in his fingertips as he nods his head, “Yeah.” A smile quirks in the corner of his mouth, because he’s never been good at reacting to anything, but he’s always been good at smiling for no reason in the most inappropriate times.

 

_ Stop it, stop it, stop it. _

 

There’s an unspoken question between them. Who is the man? Who is the man Richie is in love with? He’s sure Eddie knows, or is at the very least suspicious, and is looking for a confirmation from Richie. However, Richie isn’t looking to confirm anything.

 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks. He’s probably been thinking of the distance between them, how they aren’t close, or maybe about how he walked in on Richie crying in their tent that night that felt so long ago already.

 

“Would you feel better if I said yes?” Richie doesn’t look at Eddie as he snorts out a laugh, because he doesn’t really want to know what expression Eddie has right now.

 

“Uh,” Eddie bursts, affronted, “No!”

 

“Okay, then, well.”

 

“Just… I can’t-”

 

“-imagine what you’re going through,” Richie interrupts, “I get it. It’s fine. It’s not your fault. It was that fucking Penny Wise from whatever fucking website… TMZ or some shit.”

 

“I can’t help but feel like… it is my fault.” Eddie confesses.

 

Richie walks over to and sits on one of the stool by his breakfast bar. Eddie is standing on the other side, beside the sink, with his glass of water still in his hand.

 

“It really isn’t.” Richie says, his chest feeling tighter. Eddie is about to say something, he looks like he’s about to burst.

 

“Who is it then?” Eddie asks, loud like he always is.

 

Richie’s heart drops, “Who?”

 

“You  _ know _ !” Eddie shrieks.

 

“I don’t want to tell you.” Richie replies, trying to sound level, steady. He knows Eddie can’t see his legs so he bounces them vigorously below the bar.

 

“Is it who I think it is?” Eddie asks.

 

He’s so loud, Richie kind of wants to get some noise cancelling earphones and play Carly Rae Jepsen on full volume until Eddie leaves because he can’t deal with the idea of telling him he’s in love with him.

 

It’s just always been a  _ thing _ . Richie’s in love with Eddie, Eddie doesn’t know. Even if it has been a bullshit  _ thing _ , it was still a fixed, constant part of Richie’s life. Eddie finding out throws Richie’s concept of Earth off its axis.

 

“Who do you think it is?” Richie asks, but he kind of just knows Eddie knows, and his heart feels a lot droopier than it should.

 

“I don’t want to say it.” Eddie responds, putting his glass of water on the marble kitchen top with a small  _ clink. _

 

“Then I don’t want to answer it.” Richie looks up from Eddie’s hands to Eddie’s eyes, maintaining a challenging bout of eye contact.

 

Eddie stares back, squinting slightly at Richie, and the challenging glare reminds him of a life they used to live, where Eddie wanted to skip out of the Grammys early and they ended up eating nachos on the floor of this very apartment and playing a really competitive round of connect four. 

 

“Why aren’t we friends?” Eddie asks, “What happened?”

 

“I don’t know.” Richie replies.

 

“You don’t  _ know _ .” Eddie snorts, “Who does then?”

 

“Maybe your mother-” 

 

“Be  _ serious _ Richie!” Eddie squawks.

 

“I can’t!” Richie yells, and it feels like this has been a long time coming, “I don’t  _ know  _ why we aren’t friends anymore! You were literally my favourite person on this planet and then when we started drifting I figured, fuck, this is how it has to be!”

 

“Why did you just let it happen?” Eddie asks, and he sounds mad, like he’s been holding this is for just as long as Richie has. That’s probably accurate, really.

 

“Like you didn’t either!” Richie yells, “I just thought, I guess I was lucky enough to know you for a fraction of a second. Is that what you wanted to hear? I didn’t try harder because I thought if you weren’t trying then it meant I wasn’t worth it!”

 

“How stupid could you  _ be _ ?!” Eddie yells, he looks like he’s about to cry, “You aren’t the only one with insecurities!”

 

Richie stops for a second, “Did I  _ say  _ that?”

 

“No, but it really fucking feels like it when you’re all like,” Eddie stops to mimic Richie’s deep voice, waving his arms around as he speaks, “ _ I wasn’t worth it. _ ”

 

“You don’t get it!” Richie feels like if he doesn’t stand up in this moment he’s going to jump out of his skin, but he stays seated.

 

“Explain it to me then!” Eddie shouts.

 

“It’s  _ you _ ! You’re him, the guy, the man, fucking whatever. And every day with you was, like, painful! I woke up every morning thinking, shit I have to see Eddie today, like I was just… torn between being happy to see my favourite person and just feeling like shit cause I  _ knew  _ you didn’t feel the same!

 

“And we had an expiry date from the very first time we met, I fucking knew it! It was like, no matter what I did I couldn’t stop myself from… fuck, falling in  _ love  _ with  _ you _ , and I really fucking tried, but you were just… fuck. Okay?

 

“When we started drifting I guess I let it happen because I knew we both deserved better. You just deserved a better friend, and I deserved to not feel like shit twenty-four-seven. Guess that shit fucking backfired on me!”

 

Richie flops his face down on the breakfast bar, embarrassed from his outburst and not ready to see Eddie’s face. He can envision it; shocked, embarrassed, awkward, probably visibly searching for a way to leave the situation.

 

He doesn’t know if he feels good for letting it out or bad because he definitely just severed all ties to Eddie in this moment and destroyed any opportunity for them to rebuild their friendship. He just can’t breathe in deep enough.

 

“Me?” Eddie asks.

 

“Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Richie says, sounding exhausted, voice muffled by his arms. 

 

“Did it ever occur to you to just tell me?” Eddie asks.

 

At least they’re both calmer, Richie lifts his head from his arms on the breakfast bar and looks at Eddie’s face. There’s an expression he can’t quite pinpoint on the shorter boy’s face, “Only every single day. It’s a lot harder than it seems.”

 

“I guess…” Eddie takes a deep breath, “...that makes two of us.”

 

Richie can feel his heartbeat race, his palms sweat, his knee bounce, his eyes widen.

 

“What?” He asks.

 

“You… aren’t the only one.” Eddie says quickly, “Is what I’m saying, okay?”

 

“What?” Richie asks again.

 

“Just…” Eddie’s fingers move in circles along the breakfast bar as he stands slightly off to the side of Richie, “You’re such an  _ idiot!” _

 

He surges forward like a bolt of lightning and grabs onto both sides of Richie’s face, practically knocking him off the stool he’s sitting on as he pulls him down to meet their lips.

 

Their teeth knock together in an unruly meeting as Richie struggles to not topple off his wayward stool, but he can’t help but smile into the kiss as Eddie begins giggling against his lips. 

 

“Do you get it?” Eddie whispers against Richie’s skin.

 

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty good at explaining.” Richie touches his forehead to Eddie’s, which is honestly a little bit damp with sweat but Richie doesn’t mind, he’s probably the same, he’s so stressed out. “Since when?”

 

Eddie’s eyes are still closed, and he pushes his chin up to peck Richie’s lips; “I honestly don’t remember. Just since I met you.”

 

Richie leans down to peck Eddie’s lips once more and smiles.

 

“You’re not the only one with secrets, Rich.” Eddie says.

 

Richie grins. “Now what?”

 

“Well,” Eddie pecks Richie’s lips once more and opens his eyes, “I guess we have some boring shit to talk about.”

  
  


-

  
  


_ Hey party people!! I’m assuming most of you have realized that this account has been reactivated judging by how you're all up in my pussy, boy. But I can assure you that this is my last post on anonymous3456789.tumblr.com. _

 

_ This is just for the people who told me that I was helping them with their sexualities and helping them stand up for themselves, and not for you creeps who spent hours analysing my texting style to figure out who I was. You’re weird. Anyway. _

 

_ Basically… life update/piece of bomb ass advice. _

 

_ If you love someone, tell them. They just might call you an idiot and hit your teeth with their teeth.  _

 

Richie smiles as he clicks post. He doesn’t need to be anonymous anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to validate me in the comments ive been writing this for so long
> 
> ps this was meant to be 10k words


End file.
